It Was All About Love For
by December
Summary: Futurefic inspired by the song "Love For A Child". A man re-tells his story about growing up, raising the question, how do you live with being the reminder of a mistake your parents made.
1. Emptying the cup, staring the story

As I've mentioned before, I love song fics

_**As I've mentioned before, I love song fics. I write to music and I'm inspired by music all the time. The following story was inspired by a Jason Mraz song, "Love For a Child". There are some adult themes and language, so I'm rating it M to be safe.**_

_**Now, I expect this story will not be everyone's cup of tea. I only ask that if you don't like it, stop reading. This isn't required reading for your English class. Read (and review) if you like it. If you don't, that's okay; just move on to something else.**_

_**Oh, and I'll try to update this every week. I'm trying to stay a few chapters ahead of what is posted here. If you have no patience, all drafts are posted in my lj before they are posted here.**_

_**(And obviously, I own nothing, except maybe Dr. Lawrence and her family.)**_

**It was all about love for…**

By: December

**Prologue: Emptying the Cup, Starting the Story**

It was interesting that now, in this situation, he felt as if he was being called on the carpet by a parent. He hadn't felt that way when he should have. And now, that he should be more responsible – when he should be in a different stage of his life, he felt this way. He had done a lot of things late because of his self-destructive way of coping in the past. But this worry, this dread of disappointing a parent had to be a little out of place here.

Honestly, this feeling of dread was coming way too late, in his opinion. The dread that rested like a lead ball in his stomach, he should have felt at ten when he unsettled everyone in his "new home". He should have felt this worry at sixteen when he was caught sneaking back into the house in an impaired state. He didn't feel it then. He felt it now, as he walked back to his advisor's office.

"James. Have a seat," his advisor smiled as she took her own seat. He seated himself, but stared at his lap for a few minutes. He didn't want to look up and se the smile fall off of her face…because it would.

"So…what happened?" she asked in a quiet voice.

He shrugged, hoping that would be enough. But he should have known better. It would have been enough for the people who didn't care but should have. Of course it wouldn't be enough for the person who cared, but didn't have to.

"James," she said after a pause, "I need more than that. You started off well."

"I know," he said finally, as it became clear that she would continue to look at him until he responded.

"You continued to do well after the reading holiday. You were even on track for dean's list before the withdrawal deadline. But then it was almost as if you purposely tanked all of your finals. I don't think it was on purpose, but-"

"I can do better this semester, Dr. Lawrence," he rushed to say, disturbed by the fact that he might have disappointed her.

"I'm sure you can, James," her expression softened. "But to learn from the fall semester, we have to talk about it first."

"I might have been overly ambitious last semester, but I'm taking fewer credits and have tutoring all lined up and-" James was surprised to hear himself babble. Out of all of things he picked up growing up, the babbling was a surprise. It wasn't something his mother or father did. It was something _she_ did.

"James Michael Venturi!" Dr. Lawrence broke into his verbal diarrhea. "Just…just stop." After he fell silent, she continued, "While those things might be great steps, you are sidestepping the issue, whatever it is. And I think you need to address it."

James probably could have replied in a variety of ways. What he ended up saying was, "I wish you wouldn't call me that." It was probably another side-step, but he was sensitive about that. He had talked about that, although not the reasons why.

"James," the older woman behind the desk just shook her head. "Okay, I won't use your last name for the rest of our time together, if you talk about what happened. To someone, if not to me. I'm sure someone at CAPS-"

"I never told you about my family, did I?" James asked.

"Wh-what?" Dr. Lawrence asked. James realized that he had managed to stump her with a question she must find random. Yet, it wasn't. Everything he was and everything he wasn't was tied to those people. "How does that-" Dr. Lawrence continued before James cut her off.

"I'm getting to that," he assured her. Taking a deep breath, he ran his hand through his blond hair as he tried to fit his words together. How did he approach this? Finally, he decided to go back to something she had said earlier. "You asked what happened in the fall. What happened was that I made a mistake. The mistake I made in the fall happened in November."

Taking Dr. Lawrence's silence as a sign that she was still listening, he continued. "I hadn't gone home during the reading holiday or during what you would call the Canadian observance of Thanksgiving. So, I decided to go home the weekend that Thanksgiving was celebrated here. I spent time with my family," James could hear his anger in the way his voice got louder on the word 'family'. "And that probably destroyed me again, in some small way at least."

James looked up to see a very concerned Dr. Lawrence. She had even managed to pale slightly, although that was hard to tell, given her skin tone. "I'm not so sure you should be sharing this with me-" she began in a hesitant voice.

Maybe he was afraid of rejection, or rejection again, because he cut her off before he could refer him to anyone else. "Yes! Yes, I should," he insisted. "I need to share it with you because you care, and not because you have to."

"O-okay," the academic stuttered slightly. She looked a little out of her element. And, she probably was. He knew her background wasn't psychology. Which was good, as psychologists knew nothing. Taking a deep breath, she focused her attention back on him, but she didn't say anything. James took this as a sign to continue.

But he didn't right away, in part because he didn't know where to start. Looking around her office, he noticed it among all of her pictures. There was a picture of her daughter, Imani, who was also a freshman that year. They had met on a few occasions. He liked Imani, when he didn't envy her. He'd even spent part of the reading holiday with the Lawrence family because Imani invited him. It had unsettled Dr. Lawrence a bit, but, by the end she seemed to be happy he was there. She had even extending an invitation to Thanksgiving.

He should have taken her up on that.

Looking at the picture, some of James' thoughts just came pouring out. "Take Imani. She's rather lucky. You worked through any tough stuff you faced in the course of your marriage to her father – you two are still together, after all. But that's probably because you love him."

Clearly that statement had startled Dr. Lawrence, but James plowed on because if she stopped him, he might never finish. "You were probably on Imani about her grades. I bet you knew who her friends were. You have rules that you enforced. You weren't moved by guilt or mind games, I'm sure. I bet Imani never even tried to use them. You told her no-"

"Wow," Dr. Lawrence whispered. And then she laughed, but it was clearly a laugh that expressed discomfort and not mirth. "Sounds like I owe my baby girl an apology."

"No! No, that's…that's not what I meant," James got out. "You – you held her to standards. You paid attention to her. Because you love her. You love her. And I fucking envy her for that."

In dropping the f-bomb, something else let go in him. If he was a girl, he probably would have cried. Or not – his father had a problem with tears, which meant James had a complex about them. Men weren't supposed to cry. They were supposed to curse.

"Shit!" James tried to stop the shaking in his frame, but couldn't. He suddenly jumped up and tried pacing. He got as far as the wall before he started to bang his head against it.

"James-" a tentative voice called him back. Turning from the wall, he saw a very worried and more nervous pair of brown eyes turned on him. He'd scared her, he'd bet. He hadn't meant to do that.

He moved back to his chair and sat down before answering her. "I'm sorry, Dr. Lawrence. I'm just…fuck, I'm not sure what's wrong with me. It's just – I'm glad. I'm glad Imani had someone like you. A parent like you. But I'm jealous as hell."

"Jealous? Of Imani?" his advisor asked in surprise. "You're jealous of my daughter because I never let her have any fun? Not that ever really complained about that. At least not much."

"Yeah, jealous. And, of course Imani doesn't complain. She's smart, after all. And she knows she's loved. All kids should know that."

"James?" Dr. Lawrence asked as she looked at him. Something in her eyes made him think she had an idea of where his story was going to go. It was enough to make him look down in his lap before speaking again. It was like he was afraid that she would pity him or something. Was that his fear? That he'd inspire pity…or that he'd inspire revulsion?

His fear aside, he should probably get this out. He started down this road by mentioning Imani, he better finish it. "People like your daughter have no idea how lucky they are. They don't know what it feels like to know you're the unwanted evidence of a mistake. A mistake your father made that you mother tries to escape from everyday."

"Oh, James."

The young man didn't look up. By now, he was sure she was reaching for a phone to call for help – for him or to help her out of this conversation. "I'm scaring you, aren't I?" he asked.

There was a pause before she answered. "Just a little," she replied in a wiry tone. "Maybe, if you started at the beginning. Explain why you feel that way."

James shrugged as he tugged a little on his leather jacket. "Okay. I'll start at the beginning of this mess, when my parents met. When Derek met Sally."

"'When Derek met Sally'? Sounds like a movie title," Dr. Lawrence smiled, obviously trying to be encouraging.

It, however, just made James snort. "If it was a movie, it was a horror movie. And a senseless one. All that loss because people were stupid. It probably would have caused the audience to scream at the characters and throw popcorn at the screen."

Dr. Lawrence seemed nonplussed for a moment, as if she didn't know what to do next. And, given her background, she probably didn't know what to do next. But she did occasionally do research, and Imani did say that members of the extended family were very nosey, so that it probably why she decided to ask a question. "So…how did Derek meet Sally?"

He appreciated the question. With that question he could tell a story, just a story. He didn't have to talk about how he felt or what that meant. He'd scared her a lot already, and this story was going to make her nervousness worse instead of better. But at least it didn't have to start out with his personal feelings.

"It all started thirty-five years ago, in a restaurant that catered to high school and college students in London, Ontario."

to be continued –


	2. There's a picture on the kitchen wall

As promised, here is the next chapter

_**As promised, here is the next chapter. In general, I'll be updating this story every Tuesday. It will become more often if I'm ever more than five chapters ahead in terms of drafts. It might be less often if I fall behind. My goal is to always be at least one (if not two or more) chapters ahead of updates here…just because having people wait for eons with this story seems a little mean.**_

_**Again, this story does have language and adult situations. I might be overcautious in the M rating, but better safe than sorry. **_

It Was All About Love For

By: December

Chapter 1: There's a picture on my kitchen wall

_Last time: "Okay. I'll start at the beginning of this mess, when my parents met. When Derek met Sally."_

James had a far away look in his eyes as he started. "Derek was working there first. He'd actually been promoted to assistant manager, even though he was only a junior in high school. Other than that, he was your typical high school student. Girl crazed. Cocky. Believed he was invincible. Sally started working there her senior year in high school. She was a pretty blonde that didn't do drama. They had the potential to be great friends, until they screwed it up."

"Screwed it up?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

"They started dating."

"And that was bad?" Dr. Lawrence asked. "Kids are usually pro their parents dating back in the day."

"Not always," James returned. "But regardless, it was their reasoning for getting into a relationship that was the problem."

"Their reasoning?"

"Sally, although she would never admit it, was on the rebound from a relationship that meant more to her than anyone realized at the time. Derek, well besides his out of control ego, well…he was in denial about something. He was in such denial about it, that he tried to date the problem away. Sally wasn't the first. She wasn't even the first serious one – that was Kendra. Sally, however, could both be sub and anti for Derek, a way of getting what he really wanted but showing that he didn't really want it."

"That…that sounds-"

"Messy? Probably. But they were dense enough that they didn't notice it right away. And in the beginning, _she_ was still around. Derek still had _her_ in his life."

"Wait…so your father-"

"Derek," James corrected

"Derek," Dr. Lawrence conceded, "cheated on Sally while they were dating?"

"No, not cheating. Or at least no one would call it that. It was just that Derek could still fight with _her_, plot for _her_, with _her_, and against _her_. He could still annoy _her_. _She_ was still there. It was in part why he needed Sally in the first place. But _her_ presence was one of the reasons why Derek and Sally worked."

James shrugged. "So, Derek and Sally dated awhile. They got to be pretty serious, even though they were a school year apart and went to different universities. But, when Derek was a junior and Sally was a senior at university, he asked Sally to marry him – I guess because _she_ was in a serious relationship of _her_ own. And, as Sally had seen her ex recently and that meeting hadn't gone well, Sally accepted. So the idiots got married. They even had _her_ in the wedding."

"Okay…so Derek and Sally married, maybe for the wrong reasons. But what-"

"I'm getting to that," James insisted. "Where was I?"

"Derek and Sally got married," Dr. Lawrence supplied.

"Yeah. Derek married Sally. They moved back to that town in Ontario. Sally worked as a special interest reporter at the local TV station. Derek worked as an independent film marker."

"Sounds exciting," Dr. Lawrence shared.

"Not really. He hadn't really done any impressive documentaries or feature films at that point. For the most part, during those years at least, he directed and filmed music videos for Canadian stars. He did that video for Emm Gryner that was finally picked up by MTV. He did some stuff for In Flight Safety, Ono-Otto, and even one of the former Canadian Idols. He wasn't famous yet.

"But he and Sally were pretty well known in the area. So, when Sally got pregnant, that little corner of Ontario seemed happy about it. Idiots."

"Why? A married couple having a child seems like a happy occasion."

"Maybe it would have been, it if weren't for _her_."

"Her?"

"Yeah. Derek and Sally had married because of their issues. But, as Sally's ex relocated to California in the States and _she_ was still working on her masters so far away, the two could delude themselves for awhile. The months that Sally was pregnant were supposedly great." James shrugged.

"The two gave birth to a baby boy. They called him Mike. For the first three years of the baby's life, things seemed to go well. Then _she_ came back."

"Is this the same 'she' that you've mentioned before?"

"Yes."

"Well, is she important? Who is she?" Dr. Lawrence asked. "Does she have a name?"

"_She_ does, but if I tell you now, it would be like skipping to the end of the book before the stories over. You'll have to wait."

"James, I'm sure that Imani has told you that I have no patience," a genuine laugh came from Dr. Lawrence that time. "And I read the ends of books before I finish them all the time. Sometimes I read the end before I start the book."

"Well, you can't this time. So you'll have to wait."

"Fine," Dr. Lawrence pouted and then smiled…before she seemed to remember why James was telling the story. Then she quieted and the smile dropped away.

Ignoring the queasy feeling that had replaced the lead ball in his stomach, James continued. "Like I was saying, life was fine, until _she_ came back. _She'd_ finished up her graduate work and was looking for a job in the area. Derek practically insisted that he needed to help with the search. At first Sally was okay with that…but as it took more and more time, Sally began to object. Which led to the fights.

"By the time Mike was four, the fights were continuous. When Sally wasn't screaming at her husband, she was looking for a way to escape the mess that was their household – relying more and more on substances to do it. Derek, when he wasn't shouting back at Sally, wasn't around. Derek and Sally had a messy split that year. Mike stayed with Sally."

"Did Derek then stop seeing Mike?" Dr. Lawrence asked, something like empathy shining in her eyes. It confused James for a moment until he thought about it. Imani had mentioned that her maternal grandparents divorced when her mother was young and that her maternal grandfather wasn't a big part of her mother's life. Of course, she would make the logical jump that Mike was abandoned.

"No. Derek and Sally actually had joint custody of Mike. It was something they fought over; Derek refusing to give away full custody. Sally would insist in many a discussion that happened later that Derek's refusal had nothing to do with Mike and everything to do with having a way to control Sally."

"But Mike lived with Sally?"

"Yeah," James shrugged. "Sally insisted that uprooting 'her Mikey' from his home wasn't fair. And Derek seemed to accept that initially, but probably because _she_ was around. Six months after Sally and Derek's divorce was final, Derek married that woman. The one who was always there. The reason Derek was dating in denial in the first place."

"So this _she_ became Mike's stepmother?"

"That would be the legal definition. Not that Mike really knew _her_ at that point. Derek never brought _her_ around when he came to see Mike. Even during the weekends that Mike spent with his father, _she_ wasn't around. It was probably Derek's attempt to placate Sally – as Mike's mother wasn't in a good place."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," the young man shrugged, "in some cases divorces fix problems. It did for Derek at least," James couldn't help but sneer, "but for Sally? Remember, she was hung up on an ex who hadn't wanted her at the beginning of this mess, hence her relationship with Derek in the first place. After the split and his quick remarriage, Sally started on a downward spiral."

"Whoa. Poor Mike," was Dr. Lawrence's comment.

That comment caused James to pause. In the few times he told the story, no one had ever had that reaction before. Admittedly, two of the three times he told the story previously he wasn't…well, sober was probably the best word. But the third time, the so called professional hadn't expressed any sympathy for Mike.

"Why – why would you feel for Mike?" James finally asked.

Dr. Lawrence smiled encouragingly as she patted James' hands that were sitting her desk by this point. "Why wouldn't I? He lost his father, in a sense. Sure, his father was still around…but not in the same way he was when Mike was younger. And then, he had to watch his mother fall apart, blaming his father the whole time. And probably not paying as much attention to him as she should."

James shrugged.

"How old was Mike at this time?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

"Five," James answered. "He stayed with Sally for three years."

"So, from five to eight, the little boy watched his mother fall apart?"

"Yeah," James said quietly.

"What happened when Sally's Mikey was eight?" Dr. Lawrence asked after a few minutes of silence."

"The party. The party that changed the whole picture."

Lwdloveforlwdloveforlwd

It was a sunny Friday in October. As third grader trudged up to his house, he wondered what would happen that weekend. His father was supposed to pick him up tomorrow, which was guaranteed to make his mother scream bloody murder. She always fought when his father came to get him. And, although Mike did like spending time with his father, he couldn't express that to his mother. He had said that he liked seeing his father once in his mother's presence and she suddenly started screaming and crying, threatening to die and leave him to his father. That had scared Mike, so he had taken to hiding until his father came and then rushing out.

So, if his father came, he'd spend some time with just him. His father had remarried, and, while his grandparents had mentioned her at one birthday party years ago, Mike had never met her. And probably wouldn't meet he this weekend. Although his father never said, Mike figured that he had to be some kind of burden if his father couldn't have his wife around when his son was there. Sure, he'd probably have some fun with his father. There was a hockey game tomorrow night and his father was doing a documentary on the Leafs, so he might get to meet some of the players over the weekend.

Of course, he'd come home to a wreaked house. His mother always had parties while he was away. "I was so lonely," she'd say when he'd get home. "Your bastard of a father was out having fun – taking you away from me. What was I supposed to do? My friends help me forget."

Her friends broke stuff, acted weird, and in general made Mike uncomfortable. And he'd be the one to clean up the mess. His mother didn't work anymore, but it didn't mean she cleaned anything. If he didn't want to spend days around bottles, cans, glass, spoiled food and the like, he had to clean. So his Sunday afternoons after seeing his father, he spent cleaning. Naturally, those weekends his homework wouldn't get done…usually resulting in a phone screaming match between his parents.

He kinda wished it was already Tuesday.

"Mom, I'm home," he called as he walked into the house. As he passed the living room, he noticed that there were bottles in coolers and stacks of plates on coffee table. "Mom?"

"In the kitchen, Mikey."

Mike walked back to the kitchen to see his mother unwrapping trays of food. "What's going on, Mom?"

"I'm having a party!" she replied gaily, as she stayed focused on her task.

A party. Uh-oh. But she usually didn't throw her first party of the weekend until Saturday afternoon. "But it's Friday," he told his mother.

"So?"

"I thought that you had parties on Saturdays."

"Well, I wanted to have the party on Friday this time. I have the time; I should be able to have a party anything I want."

"It's just that," Mike hesitated, "well, Dad is coming to get me this weekend."

"So what? I'm sick of changing my schedule around for that bastard shit."

Normally, that would be enough for Mike to drop the subject. But he was worried about what the house would look like on Saturday. His dad's place was always so clean, and this house looked okay before the parties. But after them – it looked pretty bad.

"I just mean, wouldn't it be better to wait until-"

"Hell, no!" his mother stopped to shout. "I'm my own woman. I can do whatever the hell I want, whenever the hell I want. I'm through with playing second or changing my schedule so that fucking bastard shit could have things easier. Screw him. You bend over backwards for an asshole, the shit just leaves anyway."

"Uh, Mom-"

"God! Sometimes you are just like your father," his mother said. And it was clear that wasn't praise.

Her comment did finally silence him. He figured some of his discomfort showed on his face, because his mother paused in her task and walked over to him. Giving him a hug, she said, "Sorry, baby. I just want to have some fun. I'm so lonely when you're gone. And you'll be gone most of the weekend. I just hate these Friday nights-"

"It's okay, Mom," the boy mumbled, hoping that would be enough to stop her from crying. Luck seemed to be on his side, because he didn't hear a telltale sniffle.

"Good. Love you, Mikey."

"Love you, too, Mom."

"Oooo! You can help me get ready for the party!" she suddenly exclaimed.

That's how the boy found himself in the kitchen, unwrapping food trays, filling ice buckets, and taking chilled beer and wine coolers out of the refrigerator. As he looked up at the wall by the sink – he was rinsing out a punch bowl for something his mother called cosmopolitans – he saw a familiar picture. It had been there as long as he could remember; he thought it was maybe something that his father had put up. He thought it was a picture of The Last Supper. He'd heard about the Last Supper from the few times his mother or father had dragged him to church, although they hadn't done that for a long time.

He heard the car in the drive, but he ignored it initially. But, after he didn't hear a car door close, he looked up. There was a nice car in the driveway, it belonged to one of his mother's friends. He'd seen it in the drive after parties before. At first, he didn't think people were in the car. Squinting a bit, he was able to make a person – or persons? One of them seemed to be in the others lap. And there must have been kissing, because their faces were smushed together. That was a sign that he should finish up.

So, as the party got started, the boy trudged upstairs to hide. Hoping and praying that the house wasn't a total mess in the morning.

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

"Wait," Dr. Lawrence interrupted. "Why did Mike go hide?"

James shrugged. "It was his mother's party. They tended to get a little…out of control."

"Did any-" Dr. Lawrence stopped as if she was wrestling with a rather nasty idea. "Did any of the party guest ever hurt Mikey? Or make him uncomfortable? Or try to touch him a place they shouldn't-"

"No!" James shouted. "I mean, no," he said a little more calmly. "Sure, Sally was a mess, but she wouldn't have allowed that. No, Mike hid because he – well, I guess he didn't like the way his mother looked an acted at those parties."

"Understandable. But what made this party so different? Besides that it took place on a Friday night."

"What made this party different was the fallout Saturday morning."

- to be continued -


	3. And by the pool that night, apparently

As promised, here is the next chapter

_**As promised, here is the next chapter. Just a note about the next update; it will be probably be next Wednesday or Thursday. I will be out of town next Tuesday and will not be back in time to post the next chapter. **_

_**This is probably the next place where this story is going to get a little controversial. Remember, this isn't required reading. Stop whenever I've gone in a direction with which you aren't comfortable. But, if you are still enjoying (or entranced by) the story, I love feedback.**_

_**Thanks for reading. **_

**It Was All About Love For**

By: December

**Chapter 2: And by the pool that night, apparently**

_Last time: "What made this party different was the fallout Saturday morning."_

"The fallout?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

"Yeah," James shrugged. "Sally had managed to throw a killer party that night in the hole and –"

"The hole?"

"Oh, I should probably explain that," the young man backtracked. "You see, when Sally and Derek first moved into that house, Derek decided he wanted a pool. So they put in an outdoor pool. Derek took care of the cleaning and the like, so every summer they would have a pool, until he left.

"After he left, Sally refused to use the pool, but wouldn't have it taken out either. So, during the non-summer months and when it rained, Sally would keep the big hole in the yard covered. But in the summer, she'd uncover it. I think she was trying to make some kind of statement with that."

"I…I guess," Dr. Lawrence conceded, "but that seems a little drastic."

"Probably was. But that night in October, Sally had the idea to uncover the pool and to have the grilling and party take place in the empty pool."

"I'm sure that was interesting," Dr. Lawrence allowed.

"And stupid. A lot of her drunk friends ended up spending a chunk of the night at the bottom of the pool because they weren't coordinated or sober enough to climb the ladders. And of course, no one was in any state to clean anything, which led to an interesting picture that next morning."

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

The sun streaming through the guest bedroom window awakened him that next morning. He often stayed in the guest bedroom when his mother threw her parties. The guest bedroom had the nice flat screen TV and digital cable. It also was the only room upstairs with a lock, which was enough to keep the wandering drunks out.

After helping his mother set things up yesterday, Mike had grabbed his pajamas and sleeping bag and barricaded himself in the guest room. He hadn't closed the curtains in the room the night before, although he wasn't sure why. Because the house faced west and the guest bedroom looked out on the backyard, the full force of the sun came through the window. He thought about rolling over and going back to sleep, but remembering that his father was coming that day, the little boy got up.

Before leaving the room, he looked out the window. Obviously, his mother had decided to have most of the party in the pool, because various people and objects where all over the bottom of the pool. Mike hoped that most of the destruction was limited to the pool bottom. He could keep his father out of the backyard, he was sure. But if the house was a wreck, it would harder to hide.

So, instead of going back to sleep, Mike got up. Unlocking the guest bedroom door, he went down the back steps into the kitchen.

As he feared, it was a wreck. Leftover food all over the counter, broken glass on the floor. There were probably other things, but Mike didn't look at those right away. Instead, he walked to the sink and grabbed the dustpan his mother kept in the cabinet underneath the sink. Being careful not to cut his bare feet, he got on the floor near the biggest patch of broken glass and started to pick up the pieces. He knew he had to get the house in some sort of order before his father came, so he just got to work. He didn't think to call for his mother.

He also didn't think to stop and look at how bad the rest of the house looked. So, he had no idea until later that there were people passed out on the front steps and in the living room. He didn't know that there were random objects strewn down the front hall and that the mirror in the foyer had been broken. He didn't know about the people sleeping on the front lawn or the spots of puke in the grass. And he didn't know that the front door was wide open.

That was how his father found the house twenty minutes later. It was probably telling that Mike didn't process the shouting right away. It was probably about the third or fourth time that his father had yelled, "Mike! Sally! Mike! Where are you?!" that he heard him.

Mike didn't answer right away, because he was panicking inside. The house was a mess and his father was early. He was worried that his father was going to be angry with him about the mess.

And at first, Mike thought he was proved right. When his father got to the kitchen, he noticed the state of the room, Mike on the floor, and the pile of broken glass on the floor.

"Shit," was all his father said before he reached down and lifted Mike off the floor and into his arms.

From his new vantage point, Mike could see how messed up the kitchen was. He could also feel the anger radiating off of his father. "Dad, I'm really sorry about the kitchen."

"Where the hell is your mother?" was his father's response.

"I…I don't know," Mike answered honestly.

This just seemed to make his father angrier. After muttering, "What the fuck was she thinking?" his father headed toward the backyard shouting, "Sally! Sally, answer me damnit!" before Mike could stop him.

Before he knew it, he and his father – who hadn't put him down yet – were standing at the edge of the pool. At the bottom of the pool was a mess. Of the five people who were lying at the bottom of the pool, only two of them looked awake. The couple who were all smushed together in the car the day before.

"Hey," Derek shouted at the couple entwined at the bottom. "Where's Sally?!"

"Ow. Ow!" the woman of the couple muttered, "Why he is shouting?" she whispered as she blinked and held a hand to her head.

"Easy on the volume, man," her companion replied.

"Where is Sally?" his father growled.

"Who?"

"The person who hosted whatever the hell happened last night."

"Oh yeah," the woman muttered as she crawled over her guy and blinked. "Killer party. She's around here somewhere."

"Oh, there, I think," the guy pointed to someone else on the floor of the pool. Mike whimpered a little bit at seeing his mother just laying there with a glass in her hand.

"Shit," his father said again as he turned in such a way that Mike couldn't see the woman in the pool. "What the fuck?"

"It was probably all the cosmopolitans she had last night. Or was it the three dirty margaritas?" the female shared

"That was after the shot contest, right?" her other half replied.

Mike closed his eyes, because he could feel that his father was really, really angry at that point. "Look," his father said really quietly, "if she comes to and realizes she has responsibilities to people besides those that work in the local bar or booze store, tell her Derek has her son. If she thinks to ask."

"Sure, man, whatever," was the replied Mike heard, but by that point, he was moving again.

His father, still angry, walked back through the house and directly to the car. Mike thought about mentioning that he wasn't washed or dressed yet, but decided against that. Surprisingly enough, his father managed to put him in the car and gently buckle him in, something that he usually didn't do. But then he slammed the car door.

Mike sat there for a few minutes while his father leaned against the car and seemed to be shouting about something. Then, his father walked around the front of the car and got in. He didn't start the car immediately. He just gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his hands were turning white.

Mike wished he'd managed to get up earlier, clean more of the house up. It was his fault that the house wasn't quite right, he was sure. Wanting to lessen his father's anger, he tried apologizing again. "Dad, I'm really, really sorry for the mess."

After his quiet statement, his father turned to look at him. Mike saw a lot of things in his father's face, including some anger. But he didn't understand all of it, or why his father's eyes were glassy.

After blinking a few times, his father just quietly said, "Let's go." With that, he turned back to look out the windshield and started the car.

It was a silent ride. Surprisingly, they stopped at his father's new house first. They never went there first on the weekends. Mike couldn't figure out why they went there. As his father stopped the car, Mike tried to think about what he was supposed to do next.

His father came around to get him out of the car; Mike figured this was because he hadn't moved right away. After unbuckling him, his father lifted him into his arms. Mike almost objected – he was a boy, not a doll! – until he remembered that he wasn't wearing shoes at the moment. And that was still in those geeky pajamas that Grandma Rose, his mother's mother, sent him last year. Burying his face in his father's shoulder, he really hoped no one saw him.

As they entered the house, Mike decided it was safe to face the world. Walking down the last few steps to the house ground floor was a pretty woman with brown hair. She was on her cell phone until she noticed Mike and his father by the door. "Em, I'll call you back," she said and then quickly closed the phone. "Derek, what-?"

His father gently set Mike on the floor. Then he slammed the door and punched it.

"Derek!" the woman fussed as she looked at her father. "What happened? Why are you here? What's going on?"

"Do you know what she did?!" Derek began to growl, but his voice got louder and louder as he continued to talk. "She threw a party. Sally threw some fucking, crazy, out of control party with my son in the house. In fact, I arrived to passed out drunks, puke, rotting food, an open door, and _my son _on the floor, freaking picking up glass! In bare feet! Alone! What the fuck-"

"Derek! Derek Venturi, listen to me," the woman raised her voice slightly to be heard over his father angry ranting. "You need to calm down. Alright? You're scaring everyone."

Surprisingly, at this point, the strange pretty woman ignored his father and turned her attention to Mike. "Hi," she said as she smiled. "You're Mike, right?"

Mike nodded, a little too shy and confused at the moment to respond with his own hello in return.

"Have you eaten yet today?" she asked.

Mike shook his head.

"Okay, why don't you come with me and we'll get you some breakfast?" she offered as she smiled again. She then held out her hand.

Mike shyly took her hand and the pretty woman led him through the clean house to the kitchen. She pointed to one of the stools at the island in the center of the kitchen, and Mike climbed up on it.

"Now, let me guess," she began as she looked at him. "You like chocolate chip pancakes, don't you?"

Mike blinked in surprise. How had this woman known that?

The woman laughed, "You are just like your daddy." Unlike what his mother had said yesterday, Mike thought this woman was trying to pay him a compliment.

"So, I'll make some chocolate chip pancakes this morning. And your father always tells me that my pancakes are great," she winked at him as she began to move around the kitchen to start making the sweet breakfast. "Would you like something to drink, too?" she asked.

Mike nodded again.

The woman went to the fridge to pull out orange juice. She poured some in a small glass and put it in front of Mike on the counter. "Thank you, ma'am," Mike replied quietly.

She turned and smiled again. "What pretty manners! I'm guessing you didn't learn that from your father," she added with a laugh.

"Nana Abby said that you should always say thank you," Mike replied quietly not really sure what to say in that situation. It was true, though. His grandmother Abby did talk with him about saying please and thank you when she visited.

"And she's right. And you can call me Casey," the woman replied.

The kitchen fell to silence again as the woman – Casey – continued to make pancakes. As she was putting pancakes onto three plates, Mike's father joined them in the kitchen. Mike glanced at him before looking back at his plate of pancakes. His father looked less angry, but Mike still didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet.

"Chocolate chip pancakes?" his father asked.

Casey shrugged, "I figured that the men in the house needed them today."

Mike felt himself smile at being called a man. And he looked up to see his father walk over to Casey and hug her. "Thanks, Case," he said quietly.

She didn't say anything at first, just hugged Mike's father back. Then, after pointing out the stool to Mike's right, where she had just set a plate with a stack of six pancakes, she said, "We don't have any whipped cream."

"That's okay," Mike's father said as he said down. He sighed as he looked down at his plate. At first Mike thought his father was preparing to punish him, until he said, "I have to talk to my father."

Mike smiled a little as he returned to his pancakes. Grandpa George was a fun guy, even if his jokes were bad. Maybe Mike wasn't going to get in trouble. Maybe Grandpa George would just come by to hang out.

"On a Saturday? Why?" Casey asked.

"To challenge custody," his father replied.

Mike stopped chewing. Custody was one of those red-alert words. Red-alert words were words guaranteed to make his mother start screaming or to result in a shouting match between his parents. Other red-alerts included "visitation," "family vacation," and "life choices".

Casey didn't start shouting. Instead she calmly replied, "You think it's come to that?"

"I'm not taking him back there, Case. No way in hell. Sally is not fit to be anywhere around my son."

Mike stopped eating and he dropped his fork on the plate. So he was going to be punished. His father was going to stop him from seeing his mother, probably because of the mess in the house. It made Mike scared. Who was going to take care of his mother when he wasn't there? She only threw those parties when she missed him. Maybe if he-

"Dad, I'm really sorry about the house," Mike began as he tried not to cry. He knew that crying wouldn't work with his father. His father had a thing about tears. "But, I can go back and clean it. And I won't let it get that bad again and-"

It was Casey who stopped him. Patting him on the shoulder, she looked at him first. "It's okay. It's okay. You aren't in trouble. And we aren't doing anything until after breakfast."

"I'm not taking him back there, Case," Mike's father insisted.

Much as she had tried to calm down Mike, she rubbed her hand up and down Mike's father's shoulder. Then she kissed him briefly and said, "Right now, we are going to have breakfast. Later, you'll call your father and we'll figure out what to do. Okay?"

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

"Did Mike's father take him back to Sally?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

James shook his head. "No, he didn't. Admittedly, for part of the weekend, Derek and Casey tried to keep Mike's mind off of what happened after the party. But as Sunday came to a close, Derek had somehow appeared with Mike's homework and said he was going to stay with them for a little longer. A little longer stretched into Monday. Derek took Mike to school and picked him up afterwards."

"And Sally didn't say anything?" Dr. Lawrence asked, surprised.

"Oh, no! She showed up on the front steps of Derek's house Monday evening, not quite sober and screaming like a banshee. His parents had a shouting match that night with Derek refusing to return Mike. Mike didn't hear much of fight because his Grandma Nora and Casey had taken him upstairs and decided to distract him by helping him with his homework."

"And then what happened?"

James shrugged, "Mike stayed with Derek for a month until they went to court."

"Court?"

"Derek decided he wanted full custody of Mike. He was fighting to declare Sally an unfit mother. As it was, he was able to bar her from seeing Mike for awhile. The next time Mike saw his mother was in the courtroom."

Dr. Lawrence sighed sadly, "And I take it that the courtroom experience was hard on poor Mike."

James nodded. "Yeah, it was hell on him. But it would have made for good TV."

- to be continued -


	4. To handle all the broken bits of glass

Here it is, as promised, the next chapter of IWAALF

_**Here it is, as promised, the next chapter of IWAALF. I'm a little behind on drafts, so if I don't get another chapter written this week, it will be two weeks before I post the next chapter. This isn't the most evil cliffhanger, so I think you'll forgive me if you have to wait a little longer for the next chapter.**_

**It Was All About Love For**

By: December

**Chapter Three: To handle all the broken bits of glass**

_Last time: "Derek decided he wanted full custody of Mike. He was fighting to declare Sally an unfit mother….it would have make for good TV."_

Dr. Lawrence looked a little shocked by that statement. "Good TV?" she finally asked.

James nodded, "Especially 'back in the day'. It was right in line with some of those awful reality shows. For my historical culture course we had to watch a few episodes of some of that stuff. I mean, 'Flavor of Love,' 'The Surreal Life,' 'Charm School,'-"

"Hey, hey! 'Charm School wasn't that bad," Dr. Lawrence objected.

"But the rest were total crap?"

The older woman sighed, "MTV, VH1, and a lot of other networks/channels have a lot of answer for, when you think about it." After a beat, she gasped, "The trial wasn't 'Flavor of Love' worthy?!"

"It was reunion special worthy," James confirmed sadly. "But I should probably tell you about that."

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

People always underestimated what children noticed. At least that is what Mike thought as his father and Casey led him up the courthouse steps. Did he know all of what was going on? No. Did he know it was a big deal? Yes.

It wasn't just because they let him miss school that day. Sometimes parents did let you miss school when you weren't sick. His mother had let him stay home a few times when she'd known he was faking. And it wasn't because they made him dress nicely for the meeting today. Parents are always trying to dress their kids nicely. It was because of how the adults were behaving.

Honestly, Mike thought everyone had been behaving strangely all month long. For the whole month he'd been living with his dad and Casey, who - Mike figured out - must be the new wife he'd never met before, Mike hadn't seen his mother at all, even though he'd asked. Casey, at least, seemed worried about that. Mike overheard her suggesting to his dad that he should maybe let Sally see him. He expected a screaming match after Casey expressed that opinion. There wasn't one, but his father didn't let Mike see his mother either.

Instead, Mike saw a lot of his grandparents – all of them. He saw Grandpa George and Grandma Nora first and the most often. It also meant that he had to sit through a lot of bad jokes, but Grandpa George did try to make him smile. And Grandma Nora would give him the occasional hugs and listen when he complained about school. Luckily, Grandma Nora left the cookie baking to Casey.

After awhile, Nana Abby began to come by and check on him, too. She said she was proud of him for remembering his manners, and then she smiled and shared that she'd never quite gotten Mike's father in the habit of using good manners. Being around Nana Abby was hard, because, if his father was around, she'd picked on and worry her son a bit. Watching his Nana and his father made him miss his own mother. He never said anything, though. And he was also careful to keep everything very clean, because part of him worried he'd barred from seeing Nana Abby next.

Eventually, Grandma Rose and Grandfather Will also came by. Grandma Rose gave him a big hug and peppered him with questions. Was he alright? Were they treating him well? Did he miss his mother? Were there a lot of rules? Was he unhappy?

His father quickly put a stop to those questions. Mike was able to ask how his mother was. Instead of answering that, Grandma Rose just hugged him – and glared at his father, which just made Mike more nervous. But he didn't want to rock the boat, so he whispered to Grandma Rose to tell his mother that he loved her.

But the month ended and here he was, following his father into a courthouse. Most of what happened was a blur until he saw his mother and she saw him.

"Mikey!" she shouted and she rushed over to hug him.

"Mom!" he replied and he hugged her back.

"It is so good to see you. I've missed you so much. My little boy," his mother only squeezed him tighter. He squirmed a little, because it what getting hard to breathe. As his mother released him, he could hear his father's shoes and Casey's heels stop behind him.

"Are you okay? Mom said you looked okay, but you never know. Have you been eating? Getting to school okay? Are they treating you okay? They haven't locked you in any rooms or any-"

"Sally," Mike's father objected. "Don't."

"Don't what?!" his mother straightened, looking prepared for yet another screaming match. "Check on how my son is?! Given that he was practically kidnapped and I haven't seen him in a month-"

"He was not kidnapped, Sally. You've known where he was the whole time."

"You took him out of the house without telling me, shoeless, with nothing but the clothes on his back!"

"I took _my son_ out of a dangerous situation where he was picking up glass in a wrecked kitchen while you were passed out at the bottom of the pool!"

"So you say," was her reply.

"Are you are accusing me of making that up?!" his father was almost shouting. He also took a step toward Mike's mother, but Casey restrained him.

"I think you love the idea of using my son as a weapon when it suits you. Or maybe someone wanted a family?" his mother sneered as she noticed Casey. "It is nice that she's here, though. Nothing quite like _sisterly_ support, is there, Derek?"

Although Mike didn't understand what that question meant, he had an idea that his mother had dealt his father a low blow. Before anyone could react, however, Mike heard another pair of heels rushing up.

"And, on that note," Nana Abby said as she walked between the battling parties and hugged her grandson, "I think I should take Mike with me for a minute, hm? He can talk to me about that book he's reading for school." Taking his hand, Nana Abby began to lead him away from his parents.

"Wait a minute," his mother began to object.

"Sally, I'm the most neutral person here," Nana Abby replied.

"…She's right," Casey agreed after a pause.

"Fine, then. I'll see him again soon again anyway," Sally relented as she glared at Derek.

And with that, Nana Abby led the little boy away.

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

Dr. Lawrence's wince looked almost painful. "They were fighting like this before the custody hearing began?"

"So, you figured out this was the custody hearing?" James asked with a lifted eyebrow.

"What else would it be?" she returned.

"Good point."

"Poor Mikey…didn't have to sit through that contentious hearing, did he?" Dr. Lawrence asked, her worry clear in her voice.

"No. The family judge, luckily, thought exposing him to that would harm him and bias his opinions. So the judge had Mike wait in his quarters until he was ready to talk with him. Initially, they wanted him to wait alone, but Nana Abby managed to wrangle being able to be back there with him until the judge talked with the boy. When the judge asked her if she wouldn't rather be out in the courtroom, she said that this 'isn't something I want to see,'."

"Did Mike ever hear about what happened in the courtroom?"

"He heard pieces of it, later, but that day, talking to the judge was enough of an emotional rollercoaster for that day."

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

Mike had been so grateful that Nana Abby was allowed with him for most of the day. The boy was still upset by the shouting match between his parents. No one was really talking to him about what was going on, but he knew it was big deal stuff. Life changing stuff. And that his mother was in shouting mode.

After he had been with Nana Abby for awhile, an older gentlemen in a robe asked to speak with him, alone. Mike was a little nervous about that, but he resolved to use the good manners Nana Abby taught him and try to stay out of trouble.

"Hello, Mike," the man said after Mike had a seat in his office. "I'm Judge Lenox. Can we talk for a few minutes?"

"Yes, sir," Mike said quietly.

"It's been a rough day so far, huh?" the judge asked.

Mike shrugged. "I guess."

"You came with your father today, right?"

"Yes, sir," Mike replied.

"And you've been staying with him for awhile."

"Yes, sir."

"How do you like it?" the judge asked.

Mike paused as he tried to think about how to answer that question. "It's been different. I haven't really spent this much time with my dad in a while. And I've gotten to see a lot of Grandpa George and Grandma Nora and Nana Abby."

"You were with your mother earlier this year, right?"

"Yes, sir," Mike replied.

"How did you like that?"

"Mom's…fun. She's around a lot, because she doesn't work. Most days it's just…normal."

"Most days?" the judge asked.

"I love my mom," Mike quickly said.

"I'm sure you do," the judge said. "I was just curious about what you meant by most days."

The question made Mike nervous, but he got the feeling that he couldn't lie. "Nana Abby says that everyone has bad days. Sometimes Mom is a little lonely and invites some of her friends over. And sometimes, she gets angry at Dad and screams at him. But he screams back," Mike was quick to add.

"Do you feel safe living with your father?" the judge asked.

Blinking at the odd question, Mike answered, "Yes."

"Did you feel safe when you lived with your mother?" the judge continued.

"Yes, sir."

The judge was quiet for a few minutes. Then he asked, "What do you think of Mrs. Venturi?"

Mike looked at the judge confused.

"She was the woman who came with your father…"

"Oh, Casey," Mike answered. "She's nice. She made me chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast the morning I met her."

"Does she make chocolate pancakes for breakfast every morning?"

"No," Mike pouted. "She and Mom have this crazy idea that I need to eat fruits, vegetables, and icky healthy stuff."

The judge laughed. "My mother still wants me to eat the icky healthy stuff, too."

They continued talking for awhile. The judge asked how school was going, what Mike's favorite activities where, what he liked doing with his mother and with his father. Mike tried to be polite and honest, but the questions were making him a little nervous. He wasn't sure why.

Finally, the judge asked, "Do you like staying with your father and Casey?"

"Yes," Mike said. "But I miss Mom, too, you know? Living with Dad is more…neat? Orderly? But…"

"You love both of your parents," the judge shared.

Mike nodded.

After that the judge thanked Mike for talking with him and got Mike some lunch, which Nana Abby appeared to share with him. Although the sandwich and chips looked good, Mike couldn't eat much of it. It felt like he was waiting for something, but didn't know what.

He found out what later on. That afternoon, Nana Abby took him back to the hallway where his parents had been shouting earlier. His dad and Casey were off to the right. His dad looked relieved and even smiled when he noticed Mike. Off to the left was his mother, who looked rather upset and seemed to be crying a little bit.

"Mike-" his father began to say, but he was interrupted by his mother.

"Mikey, why? You did this! You had to. I had it together."

Mike froze next to Nana Abby, not sure what his mother meant. "Mom?"

"Sally…don't do this here," Casey requested quietly.

"Did I ask you? He isn't yours. You do know that, right?" his mother sneered.

"Sally," his father warned, but Sally had returned her attention to Mike.

"What's so great about living with your father anyway? I took care of you. I love you, Mikey!"

At this point, Mike was really confused. "What-?" he started to ask his grandmother, but his father walked over to him and knelt next to him.

"Bud, you're going to stay with me and Casey for now on. Okay?"

Mike's eyes widened. Still afraid he was being punished for the mess in the kitchen, he asked, "But Mom-"

"You'll still get to see her. Maybe not as often as you did last year, but she'll still visit."

"You bastard! Don't make it sound like I had a choice," Mike's mother objected.

Mike looked up to see his rather upset mother surrounded, with his Grandma Rose and Grandfather Will on either side of her. "It's not fair! It's not fucking fair! What do I get out of all of this? So, I only got to keep my son until 'wifey' decided she wanted a family?!"

Casey gasped at that and Mike's father growled, but Mike's mother continued on with her rant, "What Derek Venturi wants, Derek Venturi gets, it seems! Regardless of what it does to anyone else. Well, Mikey, you better hope that Derek and his 'wifey' want you for the long hall. Or your life is going to suck."

"Sally!" Mike's father objected.

Mike wasn't sure of all what happened next. He just felt frozen. Someone, either Nana Abby or Grandma Nora wrapped him in a hug and gave him chocolate. His Grandma Rose and Grandfather Will led his mother away. Somehow he got bundled into a car and taken back to his father's house.

And he didn't have to go to school that next day.

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

"Holy shit! I mean-" Dr. Lawrence tried to backtrack.

"You meant holy shit. It was kinda a craptastic custody hearing," James allowed.

"Poor Sally," Dr. Lawrence shook her head, "it must have been hard to lose her son on top of everything else."

"The judge, in the decision, did say that he thought Sally loved her son and when she was 'having a good day,' she was a good mother, but he was concerned about the possibility of depression and maybe bi-polar disorder. He wanted Sally to get help some help and in the meantime, giving full custody to the more 'stable' parent made sense."

"Did the judge make a mistake, James?"

"No, not at that time," James allowed. "But, it's like you've said, words have power."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, everything was fine, until, as Sally predicted, Derek didn't want Mike anymore."

"Wait," Dr. Lawrence put up her hand while shaking her head. "I'm not sure I believe this. After all he did to protect his son, Derek got bored one day and decided he didn't want him anymore?"

"No, that's not what happened. That might have been easier for Mike to deal with, actually."

"Then what happened, James? I'm confused."

"What happened," James began, "is that his second wife got pregnant. When she began a mother of a child of their own, having his son around wasn't really necessary anymore."

- to be continued -


	5. It's okay to be easily ignored

Well, I managed to get another chapter draft done yesterday, so I figured I would go ahead and post this

_**Well, I managed to get another chapter draft done yesterday, so I figured I would go ahead and post this. I think this will end up being about nine or ten chapters by the time it is all over. **_

**It Was All About Love For**

By: December

**Chapter 4: It's okay to be easily ignored**

_Last time: "But, it's like you've said, words have power….everything was fine, until, as Sally predicted, Derek didn't want Mike anymore."_

"Wait, what?!" Dr. Lawrence asked.

"The second Mrs. Venturi got pregnant," James shrugged. "Soon Derek had a daughter with the woman he loved. So the son he'd had with the other woman probably wasn't worth the effort anymore."

"When did this happen? And why didn't the court just give Mike back to Sally or place him in the custody of his…I don't know, maybe his grandmother Abby?"

"Custody wasn't reassigned because this didn't happen right away. Mike was living with Derek and his wife for about two years before she got pregnant. By then, for whatever reason, Mike didn't see as much of Sally. And he didn't initially think it would become as much of a problem as it did. But he should have seen it coming."

"How?" Dr. Lawrence asked. "How could Mike have seen his displacement coming? Especially since he lived with his father for two years without problems."

"From the way they reacted to his reaction to their announcement."

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

For the most part, the last two years with his father and Casey had been…fun in a way. Mike did miss seeing his mother almost everyday, but home life was a little calmer. Casey was nice, although she was a lot more insistent that he do his homework than his mother had been. That just made his father laugh, he often said that Casey was "still a keener". It didn't sound like an insult when his father directed it to Casey.

It was still awkward at points. He was still very careful to be neat so that he wouldn't be punished. One time he rushed through the house and damaged a glass punch bowl; he'd been nervous for weeks. He was so sure that he was going to get in a lot of trouble for that. He never did though.

It was also hard because of the visits with his mother. Sally rarely spoke to Derek and sneered and snapped at Casey when she came to visit Mike. At first, his mother was only allowed to visit him for a few hours while he was with Nana Abby. (He found out later that his mother refused to visit with Grandpa George and Grandma Nora present and that his father wouldn't consent to having Grandma Rose or Grandfather Will around for these visits.) Later, she was allowed to take him for the day or weekend. Usually, they managed to have fun – especially when he got to celebrate his birthday, just the two of them. But a few times, his mother wasn't quite herself and some of the stuff she said just stuck with him.

He never told his father about the rougher days. And he also didn't complain or comment when Sally started to see him less and less. He didn't want to not see her for months on end, but he didn't want to see her when she wasn't quite herself…or when she didn't want to see him.

At the end of this last visit, though, she'd said something that really bothered him. "So, Casey isn't pregnant yet? That's surprising. Maybe she can't get pregnant. You might just have lucked out, Mikey."

Normally, Mike wouldn't have asked, but his curiosity got the best of him. "Why would Casey being pregnant matter?"

Sally shook her head as she sipped her third drink of the day. "Because, if Derek has a kid with her, he won't need you anymore, will he?"

'He won't need you anymore, will he?' That question remained with him as he walked up to his 'new home'. It still didn't really feel like his yet. It was almost like he was visiting for the past two years.

"I'm back," he called into the quiet house as he let himself in. The quiet house made him a little nervous. Over the past few weeks, Casey hadn't been feeling too well. Last week, Mike was afraid that he might have given her that flu that was going around school. She also seemed really preoccupied. As she had always been nice to him, he hoped she was okay.

"Mike, we're in the living room. Can you come here for a minute?" his father responded to his call.

Putting down his suitcase in an out of the way place by the stairs and hanging up his coat, he carefully walked over to the living room. As he entered, he saw his father and Casey standing in front of the fireplace. Casey looked a little nervous, but his father seemed happy, so Mike assumed it was good news.

"Have a seat, Mike. We have some news," his father requested.

Mike sat down quietly and looked at the adults expectantly.

"Um…well…" Casey began, but couldn't seem to finish. She was smiling though and she looked better than she had a few days ago.

"Mike," his father began, "you're going to have a brother or sister in a few months."

He must have looked that them with a very confused expression, because after a few beats of silence, his father further explained. "Casey is going to have a baby."

"Isn't that great news?" Casey asked.

If you asked Mike even a few minutes later why he responded the way he did, he probably wouldn't be able to tell you. All he could hear in his head were the last words of his mother, 'He won't need you anymore.' Before he realized it, he had shot up and shouted, "No!"

That surprised the two adults. Casey paled a little bit.

It was his father who spoke first, "Mike. Now, I know this will be a bit of a change – and that this may have come as a bit of a shock. But it will be a good change and-"

"No, it won't," Mike insisted.

As the smile that was on Casey's face – the one that had frozen at Mike's initial shout of 'no' – fell off completely, his father seemed to be even more annoyed, "Michael, I get that this is a change, but there is no excuse for-"

"You get that this is a change? Good then. You've caused a lot of changes in my life. I'm still waiting to see if any of them are actually good. They are all different though – I'll give you that."

"Michael Venturi! First, you will apologize to Casey and-"

"Apologize for what?!" Mike heard himself shouting, although he wasn't sure as to why. "I didn't do anything. She's the one who changed everything."

"Michael, go to your room. Now!"

"Fine!" the ten year old replied as he ran from the room and ended up in bed. Mike wasn't sure what he thought the tantrum he threw would prove. Would he matter enough for his father to check on him? Or was he trying to prove his mother right? Or wrong?

Whatever he was trying to prove, neither his father nor Casey came to talk to him in his room. Later that day, they invited other family over for the big announcement. Mike could see them all from his hiding place at the top of the stairs: Grandpa George and Grandma Nora, Nana Abby, the aunt and uncle he barely knew, and another woman - who looked a little like Casey - with someone who must be her husband. No one had come up to get him; he guessed that was because they weren't sure what his reaction would be like in the crowd.

The gathered family had the right reaction to the news. They cheered and laughed. The one who resembled Casey gave her a big hug, after Grandma Nora, and even touched her stomach. And there were name suggestions, like Elizabeth, Nora, Edwin, Daphne. For some reason, the Daphne suggestion from Mike's aunt made them laugh. Everyone seemed fine.

Well, everyone except Nana Abby. Sure, she was happy like the rest, but she said, "How did Mike react to this?"

"He…didn't take it well," Casey admittedly quietly.

"He'll get used to it, " Mike's father insisted.

"But…I don't think it will be that easy," Nana Abby countered quietly. "Won't he feel a little replaced?"

"But we would never-"

"I'm not saying you would do anything wrong, Casey, not at all," Nana Abby said quietly, "but Mike's been through a lot. It will probably make him a little nervous about his place here. You both are doing things to assure that he still feels a part of the family?"

"Mom, we aren't going to suddenly ignore him," his father replied.

"I realize that, but…"

"He'll get used to it," Mike's father continued to insist.

"Where is he now?" Nana Abby asked.

"In his room, asleep," Casey said quietly. "He was a little upset when we told him earlier."

"Rude more like," his father muttered.

"Oh," Nana Abby almost whispered. "Well, I trust you two know what you are doing."

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

"Did they? Know what they were doing?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

James shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think they might have done better, had _her_ pregnancy gone better."

"Her? You mean, Casey?"

James nodded. "Because she wasn't super young at the time she was pregnant there were a few complications. This made Derek rather protective, so he hovered. And there were a few scares in there. Understandably, the focus wasn't on Mike. In fact, they rarely talked much about what was happening with Mike either. He was worried as well, but he never said anything about it."

"Why?" Dr. Lawrence. "I mean, yes, the adults should have been a little more tuned in, but Mike was ten at the time, right? He could have shared what he needed."

"Honestly, I don't think he was sure how. Even when he was aware of his feelings, he couldn't put them in a form where…where he wouldn't sound rude or something."

"Okay. So…then what happened?"

"Well, around all the planning, scares, and creating of a nursery, _she_ finally had her baby," James answered. "They named her Emily Martina and the little girl was the apple of her parents' eye. Because she was so little and defenseless, she was their focus and they loved her. They didn't understand why Mike didn't. In fact, they just assumed he did and called him on his responsibility as a brother all the time."

"Did Mike really not love Emily?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

James shrugged. "He never really figured out his feelings about the feminine 'thing' that had invaded the house. And he couldn't really talk to anyone about how he felt about everything, not even his mother. The few times Mike saw his mother, Sally would laugh and say she warned him. And everyone seemed very wrapped up in Emily, ignoring Mike until they needed him to do something for Emily. Well, everyone except…"

"Except who? Mike's Nana Abby?" Dr. Lawrence leaned forward, clearly interested in the answer to her question.

"Well, okay, Nana Abby did remember Mike, too. But, for some odd reason, little Emily decided she really liked Mike. You know how cats can tell which person is afraid of them in a given room…and that's the person they rub up against and pounce on? That's what Emily did to Mike. Sure, she seemed to like her parents, but there were times that she would cry and cry until someone brought Mike in the room. Mike was the first person, after Derek and Casey, Emily let hold her without fussing. Emily took her first steps in Mike's direction, not Casey's. Her fifth word was Mike."

"Her fifth word was Mike? What were her first four?"

"No, Ma, Da, and Mine."

"Emily sounds like a determined little girl. Did she want a big brother from birth?"

"I guess."

"Derek and Casey must have loved that."

"At first they did, and even in the beginning they loved it only to a point."

"To a point?" from Dr. Lawrence.

"They were a little annoyed that Mike didn't fawn over Emily the way Emily adored Mike. Mike just had no idea what to do with this thing that was usually in head to toe pink that always seemed to smile in his presence. But then, Emily turned three and it happened."

"It?"

"It was an accident!" James suddenly shouted as he banged on Dr. Lawrence's desk. "It was a total accident but no one ever believed that. That they believed-"

"James," Dr. Lawrence said soothingly as she laid a hand on the fist James had slammed into her desk. "If I believe it was an accident, will you tell me what happened?"

James took a deep breath as he nodded. The sudden emotion over that incident that happened over a decade ago surprised him. Why should he still be upset by that? He knew what happened and he knew everyone would think what they thought, regardless of what he said. But maybe Dr. Lawrence wouldn't blame Mike. She hadn't reacted like anyone else who had heard Mike's story so far.

"Well, it was a few months after Mike had started high school, which wasn't going well for him. Emily had just turned three, and she was all over the place, smiling and laughing and generally just happy. Derek and Casey had decided to go out to dinner, just the two of them and they had insisted that Mike was older enough to watch 'his little sister', so…"

lwdloveforlwdlovefor

He couldn't believe this. It was a Friday night and the night of the freshman social. And where was he? Stuck at home, watching his little sister. _She_ and his father didn't give him a choice. _She_ kept saying it was his responsibility, but why was he being held responsible for something he had nothing to do with? His father just said, "Do it. End of story."

Yeah, so instead of making friends, he was watching a pink wearing monster throw her stuffed animals into each other…when she wasn't running all over the house. Maybe he wouldn't have minded if his father or even if _she_ had thought to ask how high school was. But the pre-school search must be more important than the fact that he was friendless, alienated, and completely inept at math.

Case in point, the algebra homework in front of him. Mixing letters and numbers in math already confused him, but when you have more than two letters in problem, he was completely lost. And word problems had an amazing talent of making him feel stupid. It's like no one saw him at home.

Which fit, in a way, because no one saw him at school either. People pushed past him in the halls. They wouldn't let him sit at their table at lunch. If he sat anyway, they all got up and left. No one talked to him. No one looked at him. He wasn't sure people realized that he was even taking up space in the high school.

It didn't help that he didn't play sports at all. His mother never took the time to teach him when he was with her. And, by the time he came to live with his father, it was probably too late. Mike thought that his father might try to teach him hockey, or how to skate, but that was about the time his father's career really took off. That documentary on the Toronto Maple Leafs really put his father on the map as _**the**_ indie film maker, so there were always projects and interviews. And, while Derek would clear time to be with young Emily, there probably wasn't enough time to teach your son from your first marriage how to stand up on skates.

It was depressing, and his one shot to make normal friends gone because of something his father wanted. Maybe he wasn't being fair, but that's how it felt. He was finally beginning to understand why his mother shouted, "What Derek wants, Derek gets," in the courthouse that day.

The only other opportunity he had to make friends, Mike hadn't followed up on because he knew it was wrong. The only reason he even went over to the strange looking kid in the trench coat was because the kid had actually called him by name. No one had ever done that. The conversation had started off normally enough, with the kid – whose name was Harry – talking with Mike about how much high school had sucked. Harry even shared that he knew how to get through all the bullshit.

That was when Harry pulled out the joint. Mike had quickly backed up and said no thanks. As Mike hurried away from the situation, he heard Harry call out, "No worries. I'll be here when you change your mind."

"Shit," Mike muttered to himself. Noticing that Emily had turned to look at him from her play area from the other side of the room, Mike stared back at her and said, "And don't you repeat that, Emily."

She giggled and smiled at him, "Silly Mikey," she said.

"No shit," he muttered again as he looked down at his math homework. After a few minutes, he slammed his book on the coffee table in front of him. And then he proceeded to bang his head into it. "This sucks!"

Mike was so focused on his mini-pity party, he didn't notice that his banging on the table had dislodged the corner cover on the coffee table, leaving a sharp edge right near him. He didn't notice Emily's look of concern at his behavior. He didn't notice Emily get up to run toward him, probably to give him a hug…or that her shoes were untied. All he heard was a "boom" and then a giggle.

Looking up from the table, he saw little Emily, blinking up at him. She had a big smile on her face, even though she was flat on back…and bleeding from where her head had hit the coffee table.

"Oh, my God. Emily!" Mike quickly dropped to the floor next to the little girl. He was shaking because he was panicking and not sure what to do next. A few seconds later, the front door opened and Mike's father and his wife returned.

"Mike, we're home!" Mike's father said.

"Is Emily in bed yet?" Casey asked.

Mike isn't sure if he answered them or not, because he was still so freaked out about the sight in front of him. Even though Emily was still smiling.

"Oh, my God," he heard from behind him. "Emily!"

Casey rushed by the coffee table and lifted Emily into her arms. "Hi, Mommy," Emily smiled. Casey paled and rushed Emily to the kitchen.

"How in the hell did this happen?" Derek turned to Mike, practically shouting at him.

"I don't…I – I don't know," Mike stuttered out.

"You don't KNOW?! You were supposed to be watching her!"

"I was! Kinda. She was just over there and then she was over here bleeding and-"

Mike was shaking at this point, but Derek didn't notice that. Instead he noticed that the corner cover on the floor. Looking back up to stare at Mike, he said, "And you have no idea why the corner of the table near you doesn't have this on it?"

"No!" Mike shouted.

"I'm asking this one more time, Mike. What happened? What did you do?"

"Do?! I – I – don't…I mean…nothing happened!" Mike could barely get the words out.

"Emily is bleeding, Michael," his father began. He probably would have continued to fuss at the little boy if Casey hadn't come rushing back from the kitchen, Emily still in her arms, with a towel pressed to her head.

"Derek, we need to go to the hospital," she insisted as she kept moving to the door.

Mike's father paled, but grabbed his keys and started to follow Casey. Mike rose to his feet, too. He might have gone to follow them, if his father hadn't turned around.

"You. Just – just stay there. We'll talk after we make sure Emily is okay. Stay here."

Soon after that, the door banged shut. Mike sank down into the couch, still shaking. Emily had been smiling, but she had been bleeding. And he really didn't know how that happened or if she'd be okay. His father was clearly angry and Mike was scared.

He stayed in that spot on the couch for hours, waiting. His father and Casey returned two hours later with a sleeping Emily, who Derek carried to bed. Mike stayed downstairs for an hour after they returned, in case they needed to talk with him, but they never came down. Finally, the boy stood. Putting away his unfinished math homework, he climbed the stairs and went to sleep.

The next morning, Casey didn't smile at him like she usually did in the mornings. Derek didn't say anything to him except to tell him when the bus arrived. Emily still smiled at him and said, "Hi, Mike" but he couldn't respond because he was frightened by the large bandage on her forehead.

That afternoon, Mike found Harry and took him up on his original offer. Escape suddenly seemed like a very good idea.

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

"Oh, my God," Dr. Lawrence said.

James nodded quietly.

"Poor Mike. He must have blamed himself for what happened to Emily. Was she okay?"

"Yeah," James replied. "She got a little scar just above her left eyebrow for her trouble. It's a permanent scar, but that's the only lasting trauma she suffered. Later, she shared that she didn't even realize that she had hurt herself."

"She didn't blame Mike for what happened, I take it?"

"She was the only one who didn't."

"James," Dr. Lawrence said quietly after a few beats of silence, "it really wasn't Mike's fault. It sounds it was an accident, just like you insisted."

"Yeah," James shrugged, "but the choice Mike made after that wasn't an accident."

"The thing with Harry, you mean?"

"It was the beginning of the long spiral down for Mike. He was smart enough to walk away once, but you saw how long that lasted. Clearly, the boy was stupid at the end of the day."

Dr. Lawrence sighed. "James, can we come to an agreement?"

"An agreement?" James asked.

"Yes. I'd like you not to call Mike stupid for the rest of your story."

"Dr. Lawrence, you can't think that taking drugs was a smart thing to do?"

"Of course I don't," the academic replied. "But I completely understood why he did."

"Wh-what?"

"Look, Mike may not have made some of the best decisions, clearly. But he is not stupid. You can share that a decision was stupid, but not that Mike was stupid."

"Why?" James asked.

"Besides the fact that Mike isn't stupid? Well, he's the hero of this story, so to speak, right? I like him. It hurts me to hear you call him stupid. And I think – I think it hurts you, too."

James stared at his advisor. Times like this, although he appreciated her and her insight, he didn't understand her at all. "Okay."

"So, after taking up with Harry, what happened?"

"Not much really. The same old, same old. Emily protected and invested in. Mike, ignored and treated gingerly when he had to be involved. Nothing really changed until Mike was sixteen and got caught sneaking back into the house, in an impaired state." James laughed, although it wasn't a happy sound. "Considering how his behavior might affect precious Emily, you can guess how that went over."

- to be continued -


	6. Taking Drugs and Making Love

Here is the next chapter of the story

_**Here is the next chapter of the story. I'm now on a two week updating cycle because I'm only halfway through chapter seven. The good news? I think this is only going to be a nine chapter story. Anyway, thanks for reading. **_

**It Was All About Love For**

By: December

**Chapter 5: Taking Drugs and Making Love at Far Too Young An Age **

_Last time: "The same old, same old. Emily protected and invested in. Mike, ignored and treated gingerly when he had to be involved…until Mike was sixteen and got caught sneaking back into the house in an impaired state."_

"When you say Mike was sneaking in 'impaired', what do you mean?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

"Definitely drunk. Probably high, too. It's unclear. Mike was into a lot of stuff by the time he was sixteen."

"How did he get caught?"

James laughed. "You see, the thing about drunk people is that they aren't very stealthy…or quiet."

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

He swore that the bedroom window was higher now than it had been three hours ago. And that it kept moving. It was like someone was playing keep-away with the window. It was annoying as hell.

Mike shook his head a bit, but stopped as it seemed to make the world spin even more – as well as making his stomach lurch. This is not how he wanted to spend his night. That party that he'd crashed with Harry had been so cool he wished he'd stayed there until the morning. He wasn't even really sure why he was trying to get back into the house. He seriously doubted anyone would miss him. Unless Emily needed something. Even then, they still might not need him. They acted like he was trying to purposely hurt her. At least that meant when they left the house they hired a babysitter; no more forced watching of Emily for him. Too bad they came to that conclusion before Harry became his only option for survival.

Harry wasn't such a bad guy. Admittedly, some would say the whole drug thing was bad, but Mike wasn't so sure. Drugs were an escape, which Mike thought was better for his sanity than his reality. But even if you leave the drug thing aside, Harry was a good guy. Harry actually cared about what happened to him. Harry remembered his birthday and would celebrate with him on the actual day. His mother might do something with him during the month of his birthday. (His father and family had to be reminded of when his birthday was. Mike hadn't bothered to remind them about his sixteenth birthday.) Harry talked with him, tried to help him out with math, and in general, kept high school from completely crushing him. And Harry had a kick-ass sense of humor and the best party sense ever.

As Mike took a deep breath and tried to focus on the stupid moving window again, he thought he saw a curtain flutter in another window near his goal. Emily's room. It must have been a breeze or something, because Emily was asleep by that point, he was sure.

Ignoring that, Mike once again tried for the window. He slipped on the tree branch and briefly ended up upside down before he righted himself. He had just taken a deep breath as a light suddenly appeared below him. Looking down, the light caused him to squint, he could just make out a person holding a flashlight.

"Michael. Get out of the tree and come in. We need to talk," his father's voice floated up to him.

"Why sh-ssshould I?' Mike found himself asking, as he almost slipped again.

"Michael, come off the tree. We aren't doing this outside."

"Th-tha…yeah, easier ssssaid than done," Mike slurred out as he tried to figure out how to get down from the tree. It took him a few minutes before he managed it, half dropping, half falling to the ground. After he dusted himself off, he reluctantly followed his father into the house.

After he walked in the house, Mike stopped in the hallway. His father closed the door and then walked over to stand in front of Mike between him and the steps. By this point, Casey had also walked down most of the steps, stopping three steps before reaching the ground floor.

"Michael Venturi," Derek began, "What in the hell-"

"Is Mikey okay?" a little voice asked.

Mike, his father, and Casey turned to see a concerned six year old Emily, clutching a stuffed bear. That bear had belonged to Mike originally, but was given to Emily four years before. She'd rarely let it out of her sight since then.

"Sweetie, you shouldn't be up," Casey fussed quietly in her 'mother' voice. "Why don't we get you back into bed, hmm?"

"But I want to talk to Mikey. Mikey, you okay, right?" Emily insisted.

"You can talk to Mike later, Emily, I promise," Casey replied as she swept her daughter up in her arms. "But you want to be well-rested when you talk to him, right?" As Emily nodded, Casey smiled. "So we'll just get you settled into bed again."

After Casey had taken Emily back into her room and shut the door, Mike's father started up again.

"Michael, what in the hell did you think you were doing?"

"Getting into bed?" Mike snarked back.

"Where have you been?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Don't talk back to me young man! Where have you been?" his father demanded. As Mike remained silent, his father added, "Answer me."

"You just said not to talk back."

"Michael Venturi, I'm warning you-"

As his father continued to glower, the room seemed to spin to Mike again. Stumbling a little, he managed to find a wall that he could lean on.

"Are you drunk?!" his father suddenly demanded.

"Drunk? Don't th-th….no."

"He doesn't look all that hot, Derek," Casey added as she walked back down the steps.

In what seemed like a sudden movement to Mike, his father appeared right in front of him, pushing Mike's blond hair out of the way so that he could stare at his eyes. "Why are your eyes bloodshot, Michael?" his father asked.

"Bloodsssho? That may be because of the X. Or was that the Everclear? It wasn't the pot brownies, but I don't remember what was in the jello ssshots-"

"Are you high?!" that came from Casey.

Mike's father had already backed away from him. Opening the front door again, Mike's father leveled a stare at Mike. "Get out."

"Whaa? I just got in!" Mike complained.

"Derek-" Casey started, only to be interrupted.

"No. Get out! I cannot believe you even came here in this state! Your six year old sister-"

"Half," Mike objected from this place on the wall.

"Your sister is upstairs right now, hopefully asleep. In your current state, you probably can't control yourself and you might hurt her or yourself-"

"And if something happened to prec-, preci-, to Emily the world will fucking end right? I get it."

"Michael-" Casey began to say something, but Mike ignored her. Pushing himself away from the walk, he got himself almost to the door. Before he got there, his father stopped him.

"Don't come home in this state again," his father ordered.

"Detox somewhere else? Sure, whatever. Hate to be in anyone's way when I'm not neat and clean and all. " Mike agreed as he pushed passed his father.

"Michael-" Casey began again as Mike's father caught his arm. But by this point, Mike had had enough.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Wipe your feet next time. Heaven forbid that I fucking track mud in the house."

His father might have tried to say something else to him at that point, but Mike ignored it. He might have flipped them off on the way out, but he wasn't sure. All he got is that, since he might not be useful for Emily at the moment, he should go. So he did.

He wasn't sure how he got all the way there on foot, but he was standing outside of a familiar door later that evening. His feet hurt, he was dizzy as hell, and he felt a little sick, but whatever. It was starting to rain and he needed a place to go. So he knocked on the door.

A familiar woman, whose blonde hair now had some gray in it, answered the door. "Well, well. Why are you here?"

"Dad kicked me out for the night," Mike answered.

"Because you are fucked up?" his mother asked. "That's not surprising."

"Can I come in?"

Mike's mother stared at him for a minute. "Sure, I guess. But just for tonight. Derek Venturi has to realize that he can't just gift you back when you screw up or now that wifey has a spawn. I'm not his fucking clean-up girl, ya know? And you can tell him I said that. Besides, I'd like to see how he deals with a problem child. Then maybe he and that woman can stop being such sanctimonious pricks."

She stepped away from the door and let Mike stumble in. As he made for the steps, however, she stopped him. "Just where to you think you are going?"

"Upstairs, to sleep."

"Uh-uh," his mother corrected. "Part of the consequences of coming home wrecked is that you have to sleep on the couch."

"The lumpy couch?" Mike whined.

"Uh-huh. Unless you'd rather sleep in the hole-"

Mike shuddered. He wasn't sure he could get up or down a ladder in his current state. "The couch is fine."

"Well, go on in there. I need to get back to sleep," his mother said as she closed the door and then left him to go upstairs. He didn't see her again until she shook him awake in the morning. She demanded he go to school that morning because there was "no way Derek is goin' pin this on my ass."

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

"I'm assuming that Mike eventually went back to his father's house?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

"Yeah, after school that day. No one talked about the fact that he didn't stay with them the night before. The only sign that something wasn't normal was the big hug that Emily rushed to give him…and the assessing look Casey gave him before he had gotten all the way into the house."

"Was that the last time Mike was 'impaired'?"

"Oh, hell no," James answered. "But Mike did listen to his parents, even when he didn't want to. When he needed to sober up after wild parties, he crashed with Harry. He never went to his father's or his mother's house again while impaired; there was no point. His father never talked about it. In fact, the only sign that anyone had any idea that he had been gone for a day or three were the hugs from Emily and the once-overs from Casey."

"Besides the impairment, what else was Mike doing?'

James shrugged, "At that time, Mike probably couldn't even tell you everything he did. He was taking stuff and probably sleeping around at that point as well."

"I thought he wasn't popular in high school," Dr. Lawrence shared.

"He wasn't. And he wasn't sleeping with high school girls. At least not good high school girls. Good high school girls didn't go to the parties that Mike and Harry hit."

"Did Mike ever think about what was happening to him?"

"Not at that point," James shared. "Mike was trying to escape his thoughts, especially as they seemed to point to the fact that neither of his parents wanted him anymore."

"But…didn't this affect Mike's grades?' Dr. Lawrence asked.

"Hell, yeah."

"And, no one noticed?"

James shrugged. "Probably not. See, when Mike lived with Sally, he was a straight C student. Not exceptional by any means. When he first went to live with Derek and his wife, his grades did rise to the B level, until he started high school. That first grading period, they slid to Cs. After that, they hovered around the C/D level. He passed each grade level, but not by a wide margin at all."

"And this didn't come up during parent-teacher conferences?"

"No," James shared. "Mainly because Derek Venturi never had to go to any parent-teacher conferences."

"Wait. How was that possible?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

"Well, by this point, Derek Venturi was famous in his little corner of Canada. And the school loved to say that they had Derek Venturi's son in attendance. For the first parent-teacher conference, Derek asked to reschedule because of a commitment related to his job. Then, things came up with Emily and the conference was never re-scheduled. After that, Mike just forged a note saying that his father had a conflict and that was that."

"No teacher called home worried about Mike's performance, or-"

"Why would they?" James shrugged. "Mike was always a barely passing, hardly ever there student to them. It wasn't like they saw his grades take a huge dip. And the last thing anyone wanted to do is to bother the great Venturi. So, no calls home."

"But wouldn't Derek and Casey have noticed the dip in Mike's grades?" Dr. Lawrence pressed.

"They never looked at his high school grades," James shared. "In fact, they didn't realize how badly things were going until it was too late to do much of anything about it."

"How did they find out?"

"Oh, in Mike's senior year, one of them thought to ask about graduation. That was an interesting dinner conversation."

- to be continued -


	7. What a fool I'd be to start complaining

I've reached a bit of a block on this story

_**I've reached a bit of a block on this story. I know what happens next, I just can't seem to right it, hence the long wait for an update. I do have only two to three more chapters after this and the story will be over…I just need to get those chapters out. In the meantime, I figured I should post the last complete chapter that I do have. Hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading and hopefully in September I'll have more story for you.**_

**It Was All About Love For**

By: December

**Chapter 6: What a fool I'd be to start complaining now**

_Last time: "They didn't realize how badly things were going until it was too late….one of them thought to ask about graduation. That was an interesting dinner conversation." _

"I would think so," Dr. Lawrence agreed. "For everyone. I mean, did they just randomly ask about graduation one day in May?"

"Well, Mike's father and his wife did know some people with children in the high school. And it was their alma mater after all. There might have even been some talk about Derek speaking at graduation, although I think that was just rumor. Either way, someone probably mentioned to someone that information about graduation would be coming home soon," James shrugged. "They probably noticed that they hadn't heard anything and thought to ask. It wouldn't do if it conflicted with Emily's ballet or piano recitals."

After a few beats, Dr. Lawrence asked quietly, "Do you think that's the only reason they cared about Mike's graduation?"

James tried to look as if his thoughts on that question didn't matter. Based on the look on Dr. Lawrence's face, however, he didn't think he was that successful. "Maybe that's not the only reason. But it was probably a major one. It's not like they were invested in Mike at that point. To be honest, Mike wasn't invested in Mike at that point."

"What do you mean? How could Mike not be invested in Mike?"

"Because, had he really wanted it at the time, Mike could have graduated from high school."

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

As he walked out of the doors of the school, he looked for a familiar person. And Harry was right where Mike expected him to be. It would normally be a stupid place to hang out during school hours, but everyone was caught up in end of the year and graduation stuff. No one was paying any attention to what might be happening on the school steps.

"Thought you might be out here."

"Mike, bro!" Harry smiled and he got up and hand bumped Mike. "Grab some cement."

Mike sat down next to his friend and looked up to the sky for a moment. They sat in silence for awhile before gregarious Harry spoke. Not that this surprised Mike. Harry rarely could stay quiet for long periods of time.

"What I wouldn't give for a hit right now."

Mike laughed, "Yeah, uh-huh. That's a good way to get caught, smoking out in public."

"Which is the only reason that I'm not doing it. Especially since I thought I would be alone out here. Why are you out here, bro?"

"When has French ever been worth my time? Besides, everyone is going over stuff for graduation," Mike shrugged.

"Which explains why I'm not in there, because having failed almost all of my classes this school year, I'm definitely not graduating. But why aren't you listening to what you need to do to walk across a tacky stage somewhere?"

"Because I'm not graduating, either."

Harry turned and stared him down for a few minutes. Then he said, "Bullshit, Venturi. Sure, your grades kinda suck, but you could still blow this Popsicle stand with them."

Mike shrugged. "Why bother? Besides, I think Madame Davis is planning on failing me in French. So no point."

"Sure this isn't a way to hit back at your Old Man? Not having his son finish his alma mater and all?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. It was amazing how well Harry knew Mike…and what Mike would allow Harry to ask that he wouldn't have let anyone else think about asking.

"Not having his son become a hockey god hasn't really bothered him. He might be bothered that his angel is probably going to be a ballerina and not a hockey player, but little girls suck. What can you do?"

"So, you are saying that you aren't trying to damage dear old Dad?"

"I'm saying, I see no point in a piece of paper from this place," Mike insisted.

"They going to let you stay in their house without that piece of paper?" Harry asked.

Mike shrugged. "If I'm useful for their precious little angel, sure. If not, oh well, darn. But that result would be the same whether I had the paper or not."

"You realize if they decide you are useful, that will mean fewer parties."

"Ever since she was in-utero, Emily has cramped my style."

Harry laughed. "I personally think you like her," he shared. Seeing Mike's face he added, "But what's my opinion matter anyway?" After a pause, Harry posed another question, "How did the parental unit and his other half take the news that they don't need to send out graduation announcements?"

"They don't know yet."

"You let them send out announcements when you thought you weren't graduating?! Shit, man! That's fucking funny, but a little harsh."

"They haven't sent out announcements."

"The indie film director is cutting it a little close, isn't he?" Harry asked. "I mean, he is the 'great Venturi' and all, but people need notice about parties."

"Since when have we ever needed notice about parties?" Mike said as rebuttal.

"Mike. Bro. One, we are crashing parties that we usually haven't been invited to. Two, you usually don't send out invites to parties that will have tons of illegal substances at them. I mean, how in the world would an invite to a meth party even read?"

Both boys laughed for a moment, Mike partly in relief, thinking Harry had dropped the subject. But his friend hadn't completely let it go. "Bro, come on. You can run back in there. I mean, with a little butt-kissing maybe Davis will get the stick out of her ass and pass you. You can still graduate and flip them all off."

"Nah. No point."

"You really don't think there is a point?"

"You do?" he asked his friend. "Wait, are you trying to use me to show that Potheads can graduate?"

"Or something like that," Harry responded quietly. He then just looked at his friend sadly and shook his head.

"What?" Mike asked.

"Nothing, bro. Just know I'm here if things don't go the way you think."

That sentence replayed itself in Mike's head for the rest of the day. It was odd, but Mike felt a little like his decision not to graduate disappointed Harry in some way. Mike wasn't sure how or why. Harry wasn't graduating either, after all. It made Mike a little uneasy that he might be letting down his only friend in some way, but Mike was also sure that Harry would still stand by him. In the end, that was all that mattered.

After that conversation, the rest of the day was normal in a sense. It wasn't until dinner that things became strange again.

For some reason, Mike's father and Mike's father's wife always insisted that the family eat dinner together. They had insisted this since Mike came to live with them. By the time Emily was three, however, Mike was expecting to be released from the tradition. It didn't happen. If Mike was home (i.e., not cleaning out his system somewhere with Harry), he was expected to eat meals, both dinner and breakfast, with the family. Casey even tried to have conversation around the table. He never understood that, as several of their conversations had been uncomfortable in the past. Who wants indigestion with dinner, anyway?

The conversation that night took the cake, though.

It started out simply enough, "So how was your day, Emily?" Casey had asked her daughter.

Emily beamed at everyone at the table. "Great. I love third grade. And that neat math trick Mike showed me helped out a lot."

"Neat math trick?" Casey asked.

Mike shrugged. "I occasionally need a quick way to figure out weight and cost. Just passed it on."

Casey looked a little confused at his answer, but Mike thought his father knew why he might need those particular math skills. At least, given the narrowed eyes turned in his direction, Mike thought his father might have some idea.

"And, and, Glynis is having a party next week for her birthday and she invited me," Emily continued.

"Another one?" Mike's father asked.

"De-rek!"

"What? It's like the third one," Derek replied, but he sounded like he was amused, not annoyed. "Our little Emily is super popular. I wonder who she gets that from?"

Casey snorted and then laughed. "They have been a lot of parties lately. I guess it is that season. If it isn't a birthday party or an end of the school year party, it's a graduation party."

"Speaking of graduation," Mike's father re-entered the conversation, "when is yours, Mike?"

"My what?" Mike mumbled as he reached for more rolls.

"Graduation from high school. You are a senior, after all."

"You noticed?" Mike asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Michael-"

"Graduation? Is that like what I did after kindergarten?" Emily asked.

Casey laughed, "A little. But it's a bigger deal since Mike is older."

"Are we going to have a party?" Emily asked, beaming in Mike's direction.

"That's up to Mike," Casey replied.

"Might be fun, though," Mike's father shrugged. "Be nice to meet Mike's friends finally."

Mike laughed. Or at least he tried to. The sound that came out didn't quite sound like a laugh. "My friend can't be paid off to spy on me. Other than that, why would you want to meet him?"

"Michael-"

Casey sent her husband a look before she answered. "We would like to meet more of the people that are important to you. So when is graduation?"

Mike shrugged. "Don't know, don't care."

"You don't know?" Casey asked in surprise.

"You don't care? I couldn't wait to move on the next step when I was your age. How can you not care?"

"Because graduation doesn't apply to me."

"Doesn't apply to you? I don't think I understand," Casey said after a pause.

"I'm not graduating."

"What?" Derek asked.

"I'm not graduating. Failing French. Barely passing everything else." Mike shrugged.

"Oh, Mike." Casey almost whispered.

"You're sure? You can't do well on your finals and pull up your French grade? Still graduate?" Derek asked.

"I'd actually have to take my finals," Mike mumbled.

"What was that?" his father asked.

"Nothing. I just don't think there is anything that we can do. Big whoop."

Everyone was really quiet after that pronouncement. Mike thought that only Emily was quiet because she was enjoying the vegetable lasagna Casey had made for dinner, not because of the bomb he dropped.

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

"Wait, Emily was an eight year old who liked vegetables?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

"I know. Strange isn't it?"

"More rare than strange. I mean, I liked most vegetables as a child. Still do. My friends just thought I was a freak," Dr. Lawrence corrected with a smile.

"Well, if you ate broccoli without a fuss, can you blame them?" James asked.

"But was that the end of it?" Dr. Lawrence asked as the smile fell off of her face. "Did Derek and Casey just drop the issue of Mike's lack of graduation?"

James snorted. "Hell, no. I think they thought Mike's failure reflected badly on them in some way. Or that he would be a bad example for Emily if they didn't get him graduated. So they threw around their Venturi weight."

"What do you mean, 'threw around their weight'?"

James just shook his head. "Oh, they showed up to the school on Monday. Luckily, they didn't go looking for Mike, because he didn't show up on school property until about one that afternoon. Only went to one class. That didn't matter because his parents talked with the principal and every single one of his teachers," James laughed, although he didn't sound amused. "You do have to give them credit. They did manage to work out a minor miracle. A shame they didn't tell Mike about it. He might not have wrecked it."

Dr. Lawrence just raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay," James conceded. "If they had told him, Mike probably would have found out how to wreck it on a grander scale. He was just a little angry at what his father had tried to do. Ironically, he wasn't the only one."

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

This was the weirdest Tuesday on record, in Mike's opinion. Here it was, only ten in the morning, and he had a huge headache trying to figure out what was going on. Maybe this stuff happened when you came to school on time and went to all of your classes. If he had done this for four years, he would have been happy as hell to get away.

But it was more than that, Mike knew. For the first time all year, his teachers seemed to be aware that he was in the room. They called on him. Forced him to answer questions. And, so far, each of them had asked him to stay after class, where they gave him additional assignments that he was to complete by the end of the week. It made no sense to Mike, but he took the work that was given to him.

But now it was time for his least favorite class, French. Mike still wasn't sure how he made it into this advanced French class. He figured it was because of a scheduling error someone made. He figured he ended up with Madame Davis because God hated him. Like he didn't have enough evidence of that.

He got to French just in time and sat in the back, ready to sleep through the class. But, like all of his other classes today, that didn't happen.

"Venturi," Madame Davis began, "Bonjour. Comment agreable de vous pour nous rejoindre aujourd'hui. Avez-vous vos devoirs?"

Mike stared at his French teacher. How in the world did he get noticed by her? As Madame Davis was clearly waiting for an answer, he went with the safest one. "Non."

That didn't stop the determined Madame Davis, "Savez-vous quand le Petit Prince a ete ecrit?"

Figuring he couldn't use "non" again, Mike feel back on his favorite French phrase. At least he used his favorite school French phrase. No way would he want to direct the other phrase at Madame Davis, even if other people thought she was a TILF. "Je sais rien."

"Absolument. C'est evident. Voir-moi après la classe."

Mike sighed in relief as Madame Davis returned her attention to the rest to class. The plus was he was going to be left alone for awhile. The drawback was he had to see this teacher after class, too. So much for his nap.

After class, as he sat in front of Madame Davis, she sighed as she looked at him. "First, I'm having this conversation with you in English because I want to make sure you understand me. And we could both agree that you don't understand French at all."

"I take it I'm not being asked to represent the school in a French competition," Mike smirked.

"I didn't want to do this," Madame Davis replied after a pause.

"Do what?"

"In fact, when your father initially asked me, I said no. You should fail this class. You have put in no effort at all. At least when your father was called on his grades, he actually decided to put in some effort. But you? I get the feeling you don't care."

"You taught my father?"

Madame Davis did not look pleased with that question. "I was in school with your father. I did NOT teach him."

"So you just told him to stuff it, I take it?'

"I would have," Madame Davis shared. "But Casey asked me, too. Given how long we been friends, I found I couldn't say no when she asked, so-"

"Wait. My father's wife asked you to pass me? She butted her nose into my life?!"

"Wait a minute," Madame Davis raised her voice slightly. "First, she is your stepmother and she's done a lot to take care of you. Try to show some respect. And second, I'm not just passing you," Madame Davis explained as she pushed a stack of papers and a book toward Mike. "Finish that project by next week. If you turn it in, it just might raise you to a D-. Now, don't you have a math class to get to?"

Mike only nodded and left. He was a little too angry to speak. How dare they, especially _she_, decide to mettle now? They hadn't cared about him since they had Emily. Couldn't they just let me make his own decisions? He didn't want these teachers to know who he was. And he didn't want to do any more work this year.

By the time he arrived home, Mike's back hurt with all of the extra work he was taking home. All of his teachers must have gotten a visit from the "great Venturi" because they were all willing to raise his grades, and even waive his finals, if he did a certain assignment or project. That just pissed him off. As he walked in the door, he heard his father call, "Mike, if you have a minute, we would like to talk with you."

Groaning, Mike put his bag down and walked toward the living room. Apparently, it was one of the rare days that both his father and his wife were home early. They were both in the living room waiting for him. They obviously wanted to talk with him about something, but they didn't know how to start. Finally, Casey asked, "How was school today?"

"I'm not doing it," Mike replied.

"Excuse me?" his father asked.

"I'm not doing it. I'm not jumping through the hoops you had setup so I can graduate. In fact I can't believe you did that."

"Michael-"

"And don't pretend that you didn't do anything. I might have believed that you didn't, until I talked with Madame Davis."

"What did she say?" his father asked.

"That she didn't want to do what you asked her." Mike answered.

His father turned to Casey. "I told you that-"

"I said she didn't want to do it," Mike interrupted, "but because your wife butted in and begged, she relented. Seems she's a friend. Who fuckin' knew?"

"Mike-" Casey began, cutting off the scolding that was about to come from his father.

"Why were you talking to the teachers anyway? I mean, I don't get why this matters to you. It's not like I'm yours or anything," Mike said to Casey.

Casey gasped at that and Mike's father jumped. "Michael, that was uncalled for! You will apologize to Casey-"

"Why?!" Mike shouted at his father as he got to his feet. "It's true! I'm not hers. If I was hers, we wouldn't be in this mess to begin with."

"What do you mean by that?!"

"Let's be honest for a second, Derek, shall we?" Mike stared at his father, ignoring the angry look that flashed across his face at Mike's use of his first name. "The only way I would have been worth you giving a damn about is if I was Casey's son OR if Casey never came back into the picture so you could have continued to play house with Mom. In all honesty, it's her fault I'm a total fuck-up. Well, hers and Emily's. And yours. I mean, I had to get the genes from somewhere."

That speech had temporarily silenced his father, but Mike could clearly see that his father was very red in the face and was either try to sort through or hold back several emotions. None of them pretty.

"Michael-" Casey started.

Only to have Mike interrupt her. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Go fuck off somewhere else for the moment. Don't worry. I'm going."

As he left the room and headed for the stairs, he heard his father belated shout of "Michael!" followed by Casey, "Derek…let's let him cool down a bit, okay?"

That she was the one who suggested that Mike be given space just made Mike angrier. After Mike reached his room, he slammed his door, pulled out a bag and started packing. Halfway through packing, however, he stopped and sat down. He shook his head. His father's wife was fucking brilliant.

Casey knew Mike decently well. Derek had said this. Sally had said this. Even Mike could acknowledge this. Given how well Casey must know him, she must have known that stopping his father and leaving Mike alone would lead to Mike leaving on his own accord. "She wants me to leave. I can't be any more use to Emily and if I'm not in the house, they don't have to acknowledge my existence."

That realization solidified Mike's resolve to leave. Pulling out his cell phone, Mike dialed a familiar number.

"'lo?"

"Bro, when you said you be there if things didn't go the way I thought, did you mean it?"

"Mike? What the fuck-?"

"Did you mean it, Harry?"

"Shit, yeah, I meant it," Mike's only friend replied. "But what-?"

"I'm being kicked out of the 'Great Venturi's' house. Can I move in with you?"

"Sure, bro. If that's how thing sit."

"It is."

"Okay," Harry seemed to hesitate for a second. "But leave a note, please. I don't want Venturi to call the police and have them show up at my place. Especially given my alternative garden and my plans for a new 'lab', so to speak."

"Sure, yeah, whatever," Mike agreed before he hung up.

Mike finished packing and wrote a note to his father. It was short, basically saying that he knew his father and wife didn't really want him around, so he was going. They had his permission to pretend he didn't exist. And they also weren't supposed to look for him, if they thought they needed to for image reasons. At eighteen, he was an adult and he wasn't coming back there again. Then, picking up his bag, he quietly left his house.

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

"Oh, my God," Dr. Lawrence breathed. "Poor Mike. And poor Derek and Casey."

Her response surprised him again. He was expecting the poor Mike. Up until this point, Dr. Lawrence had been amazingly pro-Mike. James, probably foolishly, thought that would continue. But the sudden about-face? "Poor Derek and Casey? So you aren't on Mike's side anymore?"

"No, I'm not saying that," Dr. Lawrence replied. Sighing, she looked at James. "I feel for the pain Mike was clearly in. And yeah, Derek should have talked with his son before rushing through the school demanding favors. But, James, I'm sorry. I'm a parent."

James blinked. "What does that have to do with this?"

Dr. Lawrence smiled sadly. "It's because I'm a parent that I react to some things like a parent. If a parent even cares a little about a child, finding that kind of note would hurt. If Imani left a note like that for me, I'd be a crying wreck for days. And my Keith? The poor man would punch a few holes in the walls out of his feelings of hurt and helplessness – and yeah, some anger at being so helpless."

"That's different, though. You and your husband love Imani."

"And Derek Venturi seemed to at least care about his son occasionally. That's enough for this to wound. I agree that Derek and Sally would not win any parenting awards, but I think they both care about Mike, in their own ways underneath all of their own baggage. I don't think this just rolled off his back."

"If it didn't, serves him right," James mumbled.

"I think you mean that," Dr. Lawrence said quietly. "Not in the way it sounds, but I think you mean that. Because, if Derek hurt, then Mike clearly meant something to him."

James remained silent.

"But, I don't understand," Dr. Lawrence began. "How does this relate to Thanksgiving with your family?"

"I'm getting to that," James answered. "I just have to tell you about the years Mike spent with Harry first."

- to be continued -


	8. Left in Shambles

Yes, I haven't given up on this story

_**Yes, I haven't given up on this story. I'm in the process on working on what will be the last chapter. I hope to have it up before Thanksgiving (because that would fit), but I'm not promising. My goal is to have this story finished before the end of 2008. Thank all of you for reading. I appreciate your thoughts.**_

_**Oh, and for anyone who hasn't been sure exactly how Mike and James relate to each other, this chapters should answer that. I hope that makes up for the lack of Derek and Casey.**_

**It Was All About Love For**

By: December

**Chapter 7: Left in shambles**

_Last time: "I'm getting to that….I just have to tell you about the years Mike spent with Harry first."_

"Years?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

"Years," James confirmed. "About six total."

"Wow. That's a long time. Did James contact anyone from his family during those six years?"

"Well, he sent emails to his mother and to his Nana Abby every three months."

"Why emails? And why to his mother and grandmother and not his father?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

James shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. I guess Mike felt that he should let his mother know what was happening because she did take him in that first time he was wasted. And Nana Abby? Well, he sent her one a week after he emailed his mother…because he thought his father might have shared what had happened and she would worry. Nana Abby made him promise to email her every three months to let her know he was still alive. So he emailed them every three months for years."

"Where were Mike and Harry getting money from?" Dr. Lawrence asked.

Again James shrugged. "Again, I don't know. Harry always seemed to have money and never asked Mike to contribute. The only thing Harry seemed to want from Mike as a friend to go to drug parties with, someone he trusted. That could be very important at these parties. Someone had to watch your back, even if that person was as high as you were. Less bad stuff happened to you if you were perceived to be at the party with a 'bro' or, preferably, a 'posse'. Made you seem important, somehow. The two guys just watched each others' backs."

"Did they stay in London?"

"Initially," James confirmed. "But they moved on to Toronto after about a year. Because it was bigger, there was more opportunity for wild parties and illicit substances. By that point, the two boys were beyond pot, so backyard 'gardens' in the suburbs weren't going to cut it."

"Didn't the wild partying thing get old for Mike?" Dr. Lawrence asked after a pause.

"You would think, but no. That's not what finally got Mike to stop living the hard life at twenty-four."

"What got him to stop?"

"Another life changing party, given by someone who would be rather embarrassed now if talk of that party surfaced." James shrugged. "L's changed her image along with her music, but even back then, her scene wasn't really her scene. Her last wild party was Mike's last, too."

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

They had shown up to the party buzzed. At least, that's how Mike justified his uncool staring upon entering the suite. This was supposedly the party of the season, the MusicFest party that everyone was trying to get into. He had no idea how Harry managed to get them into such a big league party.

And you knew it was a big league party because the drugs were out in the open and no one was in the least bit apologetic. Cocaine in one corner, heroin in the other. Food and drink everywhere, half of which was probably laced with stuff. "Holy shit, bro. Who'd you fuck to get us in here?"

Harry shrugged, "Not important, but try to man up Venturi. No faster way to being thrown out than to look out of place and awed by the surroundings."

"Who's throwing this drug store get together, anyway?" Mike asked his partner in crime.

"Don't know. Besides, who cares? That powder is choice!" Harry's eyes lit up as he pulled Mike toward the cocaine corner. It wasn't surprising that Harry could tell the cocaine was quality from across the room. The "pure stuff" was Harry's drug of choice. Mike didn't really have an illegal drug of choice; he was usually set with way too much alcohol…and maybe a little pot.

Both Harry and Mike avoided heroin. They had been in the drug culture long enough to know that heroin never ended well.

An hour and two drinks later, Mike was still in that corner, watching Harry and strangers take turns snorting lines. They had offered to cut Mike in, but he wasn't feeling the powder that night. The idea of getting wasted was appealing, but he would rather knock back a lot of gin and rum to escape that night. He wondered it that was because of tonight's anniversary.

Anniversary probably wasn't the right word for it, but that's what he called it in his head. Sometimes, at least. This was the anniversary of the day his life went to hell. Most people might disagree, saying that the day his life went to hell was when he took Harry up on his offer in high school, just over a decade ago. But Mike believed that his life went to hell on October fifteenth.

October fifteenth was Emily's birthday.

Even now, Mike went back and forth over what to call this day. Not that he had talked about the day out loud in almost five years. During his first year away from home he did refer to the day as "the terror's" birthday. Harry, however, laughed at him because not two hours later Mike slipped and referred to the same day as his little sister's birthday.

"See! You do like her!" his friend got out around his laughter.

Harry would have laughed even harder, assuming that was possible, if he had known that Mike had bought Emily a gift that year. And every year since. He never sent the gifts and card to Emily, but he kept buying them. And this day was always a little hard for him.

Harry didn't remember what this evening was, Mike was sure. Harry would probably be surprised that Mike still remembered. He was surprised five years ago when Mike slipped and mentioned it.

"As much mind altering crap as we have put into our systems, how the fuck do you still remember that?"

"It was practically a national holiday in that house," Mike had defended himself. "It was a bigger deal than Boxing Day or Christmas! If he had had his way, Derek Venturi would have called for a province-wide celebration."

Emily was turning fourteen that year. For Mike's fourteenth birthday…well, Harry had gotten them into that party thrown by Western university students where Mike had his first pot brownie. Later that month, his mother put a candle in a cupcake at some coffee shop outing. And Nana Abby had sent him something, like she always did, although he couldn't remember what now. There were chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast the morning of Mike's birthday, which were Mike's favorite. But Emily was in a dance recital that night, so that was probably what prompted Casey to make the pancakes.

Mike couldn't help but wonder what the great Venturi had planned for his daughter's big day.

He needed another drink.

Harry picked up on Mike's mood between snorts, somehow. Gesturing to the bar and then to the couch, he said, "Go grab some top shelf shit and hit on the pretty girl on the couch. I'll scream when we need to blow this place."

Mike didn't argue. After grabbing his escape from the bar, he ambled over the plush white couch in the center of the room. It was already occupied by someone, whose straight black hair hung in his or her face.

"May I join you?" Mike heard himself asking. He snorted in his head. At least the manners his Nana Abby had insisted upon where still with him.

The person turned and stared at Mike, through the veil of hair hiding its face, for what felt like eons. Then, "Well, you aren't completely fucked up. So, yeah," a familiar voice conceded.

Mike nodded and then sat down. Talking hair returned to staring at the blank flat screen TV in front of them, seeming to be uncomfortable.

"I take it this isn't your scene?" Mike asked.

"Not anymore, no. I'm not even sure it ever was," was the reply.

"So…what are you doing here, then?" the young man felt compelled to ask.

"Hosting," was the reply of his companion as she lifted the hair out of her face and Mike found himself looking into a set of famous gray eyes and a face he'd seen on Much Music and MTV2 often.

"L La'Grange? Lead singer of Lauchscream?"

"Guilty," the singer laughed at whatever expression Mike wore on his face.

"Wow. Your crooning screams are like legend."

"Well," L shrugged, "The DIY Queen Ms. Gryner herself said I had a set of pipes. I guess she would know."

"So," Mike continued after a pause, "the drug store gatherings aren't your scene?"

"'Drug store gatherings?'" L laughed. "I'll have to use that! But no…not really. I'm not so much a Guns 'N Roses partier."

"But, if you're hosting, wouldn't this be more of a Go-Gos party?" Mike asked.

"Well, well. Nice point," L smiled.

"Of course," Mike smirked in return.

"But, aren't the Go-Gos before our time? I mean, even before our parents' time? How do you know about them?"

"My grandmother is a Biology professor," Mike shared. "Some of her academic friends would talk about 'oldies' over her weekly card game. I sat through a few growing up."

"The talked about the Go-Gos over bridge?"

"This was my grandmother, not my great-grandmother," Mike corrected. "They didn't play bridge. They played Poker."

"Texas Hold 'Em?"

"Is there any other kind?"

After a minute lull in conversation, where Mike looked at the bottle in his hand and L looked at the blank TV, she turned back to Mike and asked, "So, what are you doing here?"

"Umm…" Mike sat up quickly and tried to think. Harry would be pissed if Mike got them thrown out. "I'm hanger on from the label," he lied.

"No, you're not." L stated with conviction.

"How do you know?" Mike countered.

"You mean, ignoring the surprise and awe on your face when you figured out who I was?" L lifted an eyebrow. "Honestly, it's because, if you were with the label, you'd be at the coke table in the back or out on the balcony on your cell trying to make a deal. It is MusicFest after all. Label lackeys don't just drink."

"And I wouldn't be at the heroin table?" Mike had to ask.

L snorted. "Like that ever ends well. I said you weren't with the label; I didn't say you were an idiot."

"Well, why do you think I'm here?" Mike asked. Whatever she thought, L hadn't called security on him, so he figured he was okay. For the moment anyway.

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"I think you're a trust fund brat trying to drown his fucked up life in wild parties and alcohol."

"Trust fund brat, huh?" Mike laughed. "I'll take that."

"And not the fucked up life part?"

"I'm not drunk enough to admit to that." Mike looked down at the bottle in his hand. "I should get to work on that."

L turned the bottle in Mike's hands to read the label. "Wow. The imported stuff. You have great taste in liver destroyer."

"I try."

"Tough night?" L asked, nodding at the bottle.

"Not drunk enough to answer that, either."

"Well, shit," L semi-pouted as she returned to staring at the dark flat screen.

After staring at the blank screen with her for a few moments, Mike found himself asking out loud, "Why are we staring at a TV that's not on?"

"I didn't want to watch it by myself in the midst of a party I was hosting. Because that would end up in the unauthorized biography."

"Out of everything happening at this party, that's the thing you are worried about being in the bio?"

"I am a musician, after all."

"Well…true," Mike nodded, realizing that the culture of excess in mainstream music hadn't really ever ended. "But, what if I watch it with you?"

"Oh, then it's only paparazzi speculation. I can live with that." With that, L turned on the TV. It landed on a repeat of that evening's Entertainment Tonight. What the lead anchor was discussing was just ironic.

"We're here at the Toronto Film Festival and everyone is gushing over Venturi's newest documentary on the twenty-first century blended family. To be more specific, everyone is gushing over Venturi and his family."

Mike must have made a noise of disgust, because L turned to look at him briefly before returning her attention to the screen.

"With his wife Casey and daughter Emily, seen here five years ago at a fundraiser to support an organization that helps teen drug addicts get clean, Derek Venturi is seen has having a charmed life. Actor and singer Jesse McCartney had this to say,

"'Working with Venturi is a blast. And you can tell that he adores his wife and daughter.'"

"Isn't Emily the cutest thing?" the reporter asked Jesse.

"Absolutely adorable. Derek, I hope you have that gun loaded to fight off all the boys that will fall at her feet."

"The thing that all of Hollywood…all of North America is amazed by?" the anchor broke back in to share, "Venturi's been happily married for nineteen years."

"They've been blissfully happy for like ever," some random actor commented. "Way to raise the bar, Venturi."

"They all act like this is his first marriage," Mike thought. He didn't realize he had spoken that thought aloud until he got a reply from L.

"But, this is the business. Given now often people marry in that world, all second wives are really first wives. Starter wives never count."

"And the practice kid you fucked up for ten years before you got it right? He or she doesn't count either?"

"Not 'til their drug scandal sidelines you career," L confirmed.

"Well, shit," Mike muttered.

L looked at him briefly before quietly changing to the Food Network. "No one watches ET these days," she whispered. "They never get the story right anymore."

The two watched one of the late Paula Dean's sons make some kind of heart attack on a plate before L said, "You know, I never got your name."

"James Michael," Mike found himself responding, although he didn't know why. What made him pick up the first name he never used and drop his last name? He didn't have to give her more than one name, anyway.

"I though I heard someone shouting to a Mike earlier?"

"That was my friend, Harry. He thought making a nickname for my last name would be cool or something."

At that moment, a glassy eyed, clearly out of it Harry almost collapsed over the arm of the couch were Mike was seated. "They pullin' out the cheap shit. Time to fuckin' go."

"Alright," Mike said as he began to stand.

"Shit, Mike! You didn't even touch the good stuff," Harry slurred a little, pointing to the bottle in Mike's hands. "Now you have to leave it."

"No, take it," L interrupted. "For your conversation earlier."

"Thanks," Mike smiled at the singer.

"Well, get the number and let's go," Harry insisted as he weaved back and forth for no apparent reason.

Mike thought about trying to explain that he wasn't getting a phone number, but decided against it. Nodding to L, he began to lead his clearly fucked up friend to the door of the penthouse hotel suite.

As Harry muttered about a blue orange dancing with guns and shit, Mike turned and propped up his leaning friend. "So, clearly, I'm the designated walker tonight. But this is more than coke confusion. What the hell all did you take?!"

"Shit, man. It was fuckin' righteous."

"Harry-"

"Okay, f-f-fine," Harry mumbled. "After the pure stuff and a few patches, there were some pills, good stuff. Like your top shelf there. Then this guy brought out his own stash of the new shit. Then another guy gifted us with some loose pink dream makers-"

Mike quickly cut off his friend. "Loose pink pills? Harry, what the fuck? You know we both always look before either ingests. Why the hell didn't you call me over?" Mike found that he was almost shouting. Luckily, for his state of mind and Harry's general state, the two were staying in the same hotel as the party and the elevator had just arrived.

"Mike, shit. Like, fuck-"

"Harry, it's our rule. The only goddamn one we have."

"Don't be such a fuckin' keener, Mike."

"Harry –"

"Fuck it, man. I didn't whine like a girl to get you to look over the fun shit because you were in deep convo with black hair. And t'night's hard on you."

"Wait, what?"

"It's 'tober fiffeenth. Day always fucks you up. Why'dga think I found a party?"

Mike stared at his friend in shock. "You know that –"

"Fuck it, man. I mean, we crew and all. But can we fuckin do this chick flick crap in the fuckin' shit of a mornin'?"

"Sure," Mike said, once again in awe of the kind of friend he had.

When they turned in that night, Mike sleeping in the bedroom, Harry collapsing on the couch in the sitting area, they managed to mumble at each other.

Mike mumbled about Harry letting him check out drugs before Harry ingests them. Harry, between shits and fucks, mumbled that Mike was a "fuckin' annoying loyal keener of a pain in the ass friend. Like a bro."

The next day Mike woke up with a small hangover. Harry didn't wake up at all. As the medical personnel took away his sheet covered friend, Mike made two decisions.

The first was to get clean and to get all substances out of his life.

The second was that no one would ever call him Mike Venturi again. Because Mike Venturi was so wrapped up in being a Venturi on Emily Venturi's birthday, his friend took a lethal cocktail of crap and died. As far as he was concerned, Michael Venturi was a murderer and died with his friend on October sixteenth.

So, after trying to answer questions for hours, not long after the authorities finally left, the young man who now called himself James emailed his Nana Abby about his decision to go by a different name.

Then he called his two year sober mother to ask for the name and location of where she did her rehab.

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

As James grew quiet, he looked up at Dr. Lawrence. Her eyes were watery. James felt that queasy feeling in his stomach again. "Are you crying?"

"No," Dr. Lawrence denied in a watery voice. "My daughter will tell you I'm not a crier. But-"

"But?"

"You've been carrying that for…"

"Years."

"Years?"

"Yeah," James shrugged. "It's been two years, three months, two days and…" Mike paused to check his watch.

"I get the idea," Dr. Lawrence interrupted. "But if losing Harry didn't change your life-"

"Losing Harry absolutely fucking changed Mike's…I mean, my life!" James argued. "But Harry, drugs aside, was always good for me. He'd inspire a positive change."

"Okay, I phrased that badly," Dr. Lawrence seemed to correct herself. "What I mean to ask was, that if you were strong enough to keep breathing after that, what the hell could Derek Venturi have done to you that would cause you to tank a semester?!"

"I never reacted well to Venturi-"

"You have had problems relating to your father since he left your mother, that I understand," Dr. Lawrence nodded, "but-"

"Dealing with Venturi," James stressed, being clear that he wasn't referring to that man as his father, "was not something I was skilled at. And rehab and college classes don't help with that. Being back in his house brought up crap that I couldn't deal with. Didn't deal with. And I didn't have anyone like Harry around to have my back. It's like I had to prove I was the fuck up he called me."

"Your father actually called you a fuck up?"

"He might as well have," James insisted.

Dr. Lawrence shot him a look. Was there doubt in her expression? James really couldn't tell.

"James, tell me what happened at Thanksgiving."

to be continued –


	9. Far Too Old to Care

_**So, here is the next chapter of IWAALF. Because of all the things I need to sew up before this story ends, I've decided that I need one more chapter after this one. My goal is to have that last chapter posted around Thanksgiving, because that would fit, in a way.**_

_**I am planning a follow-up to this story that should debut in early 2009. Thank you all for reading and I'm glad that you are enjoying this ride.**_

**It Was All About Love For**

By: December

**Chapter 8: Far Too Old to Care**

_Last time: "James, tell me what happened at Thanksgiving."_

James took a deep breath. There was no more putting it off. No more just telling a story. At this point, it all turned personal and he couldn't pretend to be an objective third observer. He couldn't pretend that this didn't effect him or wasn't about him. That made continuing harder than he would like to admit, but he was the one who started this.

"Okay. As I – as I said earlier, I decided to go back to Canada for the U.S. Thanksgiving holiday. I flew out Wednesday afternoon, with no real destination in mind. Maybe I'd stay with my mother or with Nana Abby. Maybe I'd visit Harry's grave or maybe…maybe I'd go by the great Venturi's house."

"What made you want to see your father and his family?"

"I'm not sure I really expected to see them. Derek was huge by that point; I honestly thought he would have moved the most important women in his life to some swank place in Toronto. Or maybe to a quiet and secret place in Windsor."

"So why go by the house?"

"I…I really don't know. Maybe I wanted proof that they had moved on without me. Or maybe I wanted some kind of closure. I had always refused to talk about my time with them in rehab. Maybe I thought driving by the house would…do something, I guess," James ended with a shrug.

"Driving by?" Dr. Lawrence asked. "So you didn't plan to stop."

"Not initially. Not consciously. And I should have stayed with that original impulse."

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

He didn't know why he was there. When the plane landed in Toronto, James knew he wasn't staying in that city. Part of him still associated Toronto with its drug culture and his drug past. So, he was always driving away from Toronto. He thought he'd end up in Windsor, possibly at the casino. Or that maybe he'd end up on his mother's doorstep, since she had moved to Sarnia.

He didn't think he'd end up parked in front of the house where he'd spent ten years of his life. Sure, it was "on the way" in a sense, to both Windsor and Sarnia, but there was no reason for him to stop there. He'd had to get off the Highway 401 to stop, after all.

The outside of the house hadn't changed much, James noticed as he sat in his rental car. The shutters were a different color than he remembered. The tree he'd used to sneak in and out of the house no longer had branches that reached to the windows of the house. A front porch swing had been added. But the rest of the house was the same. For some reason, that seemed to surprise him.

James got out of the car and closed the door. Venturi had made it big by that point. He'd probably moved. Well, maybe if James rang the doorbell, the new family might invite him in for tea.

Walking up to the door, James shook his head and himself. He was really going to bother these people for closure? He wouldn't have done this if he'd lived in the States at ten. Of course, people in the States tended to lock their doors and shoot trespassers, not give them tours of the house because they used to live there. But he was on the front steps now. Oh well.

Ringing the doorbell, James waited for an answer. He heard a muffled feminine voice shout, 'I've got it," before the door opened to a teenage girl.

The teenager at the door was a typical one in many ways, even though the way she was staring at him probably wasn't. She was wearing the latest style, another throwback to the 1980s – and he blamed Imani that he even knew that. The teenager was tall, only a little shorter than James six feet. She had wavy reddish-brown hair and blue eyes, which were still really wide with shock. She hadn't spoken since she'd open the door. Did he look that strange? James didn't think so. Sure the jeans and sweatshirt were a little rumpled from the drive after the plane ride, but surely he didn't look frightening?

Thinking he should say something to the poor teenage girl, he pushed his blond hair out of his face, a nervous habit he had, and said, "Um…I'm sorry to bother you. I was just driving through. I used to live here years ago. I wonder if-"

Whatever else James would have awkwardly gotten out was cut off as the teenager's face quickly moved from shock to pure joy. Letting go of the door, she practically tackled him with a hug. "Oh, my God," she whispered into his chest. "It's you, Mikey, isn't it? It's really you. I missed you so much!"

Being called Mikey confused James. He almost said that the girl had mistaken him for someone else, until he remembered that a lot of people in that area would have known him as Mike or Mikey. It had just been years since he'd thought of himself that way. The hug, however, really baffled James. Was this the little sister of someone he was in school with? But that didn't make sense. He wasn't popular enough that any little sisters would know who he was.

"Excuse me," James looked down at the teenager trying to squeeze him to death, "but…do I know you?"

At that point, another feminine voice, probably belonging to the clinging girl's mother, began to move toward the door. "Emily? Invite whoever it is in, before your father invites himself out," the woman laughed.

James stared at the teen attached to him in shock. It couldn't be. "Emily? Emily Venturi?"

Before the teenager could reply, James heard a second, "Oh…my God. Mike? Is that really you?"

Looking up from the girl trying to squeeze him to death, he saw an older woman in the door. In some ways, she didn't look that different from when he'd first seen her over sixteenth years ago. Her brown hair was a little shorter and did have a touch of gray in it, although James couldn't tell if that was natural or bottle gray. She also had a look of shock on her face. Shock and disbelief. To be fair, James thought, this was probably a nightmare of hers.

"Mrs. Venturi," James acknowledged the woman he'd called Casey for years as a child and teen.

"Is there any particular reason why everyone is clumped around the door?" a voice that James had not expected to hear when he started his journey uttered. "If it's that worthless guy that been trying to talk to our daughter-"

"Adam is not worthless, Daddy!" Emily objected from her position on the porch. Apparently, discussing her boyfriend was enough to get her to loosen her death grip on James, but she still didn't let go.

By this point, the great Venturi had made it to the door himself. James felt himself stiffen as this older version of his father stared at him for what felt like forever. A lot of things seemed to fly across his face before he said, "Okay, you are at least twenty-two years old-"

"Twenty-seven," James interrupted the coming rant. He had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Surely he wasn't disappointed that Venturi didn't recognize him? Although, something odd did pass across Venturi's face when James shared his age.

"Derek…it's Michael," Casey Venturi said quietly.

There was silence for a few moments. An unreadable expression was on Venturi's face and his eyes narrowed in James' direction. The, he suddenly turned and said, "More reason for everyone to come in the house and not clump around an open door." The pronouncement was obviously enough for Venturi because he began to walk back into the house. His wife followed.

James might have stayed where he was if an excited Emily hadn't pulled him into the house. "Driving through, you said?" she asked with a smile, "Are you nearby?"

"No," James found he couldn't not answer the perky teen, "I flew into Toronto."

"Then that's your rental out in front? The Taurus? I bet your bag is in the trunk."

"In the passenger seat, actually, but-"

"I'll go get it," Emily let him go with a wink as she held up the keys she must have pulled out of his pocket. Then she rushed out the door.

"But-" James started to stop her, even though she was long gone before he'd realized what had happened, much less gotten any words out.

"If you drove straight from Toronto, you must be tired," Venturi's wife observed from where she was standing in the foyer. "Why don't you come in the living room and rest while Emily grabs your stuff?"

James found himself nodding and following Casey Venturi into the living room. It was like déjà vu all over again, following Casey through the house when he felt uncertain about his place and what was happening. He felt like he was eight again…without the chocolate chip pancakes.

When he entered the living room, he noticed Venturi was there, looking decidedly uncomfortable. His arms were folded and he had positioned himself so that he was blocking some case, which looked like it held awards and photographs. Did Venturi think that James would vandalize something?

Casey indicated that James could sit on the sofa, but the young man found himself walking to the mantle over the fire place. It was covered with pictures, mostly of Emily, Casey and Derek…but there were two on the mantle that surprised James.

The first was a family photo taken when he was fifteen. Emily was on his lap, smiling at the camera like the very happy five year old she was. Derek and Casey Venture stood behind the seated children. Derek had his right hand on his son's shoulder and his left arm around Casey. Casey was position in a similar way on the other side. James didn't understand why that picture was displayed at first, until he thought about it. Emily was in the picture, after all.

But there was another picture displayed, taken when James was eight, before Emily was even a thought. The entire Toronto Maple Leafs hockey team had crowded around Derek and his son for the photo. Why in the world did Venturi display that picture? Surely he had another picture of him and the hockey team that didn't include James…or he could get one.

So lost in thought, James only heard the tail end of a question that was directed his way, "…wasn't it, Michael?"

"Huh?" James turned to see a still uncomfortable Venturi and his wife desperately trying to make conversation. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Venturi. I didn't hear you."

"I was just asking about your trip," Casey Venturi replied. "And…you can call be Casey, Michael."

"I'm a little more comfortable with Mrs. Venturi," James shared. He told himself that the twist he felt in his stomach was not due the way Casey Venturi's face fell at his response. "And, it's James."

"What's James?" Venturi finally contributed to the conversation.

"My name," James replied. "I don't use Michael anymore."

"Oh, really," Venturi asked with a raised eyebrow. "You answer to Michael for over half of your life and suddenly you want to answer to something else?"

"Yes," James replied. At the look on Venturi's face, he felt pushed to add, "I'm not asking for permission. I'm just sharing that I probably won't answer to Michael."

"Derek," Casey interrupted. 'I'm sure that Mi – I mean James – has a reason for deciding to use his first name."

"Yeah, he's hiding from someone or something I bet."

"Derek –"

"Look," James inserting himself back into the conversation. "I answer to James. Period." James sighed. "I really don't see why this is a problem. Mom didn't seem to mind the change when I told her," he muttered to himself.

Clearly, he didn't mutter his thoughts quietly enough, because the great Venturi heard him. "You've…you've talked to your mother?" he asked quietly.

"Most recently last month," James shared. He added in his head that he'd called her during the Canadian Thanksgiving, but he didn't think anyone in the room needed to know that.

"That's…wonderful," there was something off about Venturi's voice. Was it really that hard to say something nice to him, James had to wonder.

"I'm getting a drink. Want a beer?" Venturi again threw over his shoulder has he started walking toward the kitchen.

"Um…actually, water is fine, if you have it," James quickly answered. As much as he would love to get lost in a beer…no. He wouldn't go down that road again. Because if he died from it, Harry would bitchslap him in heaven.

At that moment, James really missed Harry.

"So, Mi- James," Casey Venture began to talk to try and fill the silence, "how was the drive from Toronto?"

James shrugged. "Fine, I guess. It has been awhile since I've been on Highway 403. Did they add another lane?"

"I think so…last year," Casey nodded. "You…drove Highway 403 a lot?"

"Not a lot, no," James shared. "But it is the major roadway to Toronto."

"This time of day though, it must have been exhausting, especially after a flight. Even if it was a short one from Quebec?"

Why in the world was Casey Venturi trying to talk to him about traffic? It James didn't know better, he'd think she was digging for information. She might be at that. He'd bet the second Mrs. Venturi was still a planner – more than likely, she was planning a way to hasten James out.

James shook his head in answer to her posit about traffic. "There are worse ways to drive 403," James replied. Like when he had to ride the highway behind the hearse carrying his best friend's body. How he didn't wreak then still amazed James to this day. Rush hour wasn't shit compared to that.

Suddenly a loud noise was heard from the front of the house. It sounded like a boom of some sort, but, Casey Venturi didn't jump. She sighed instead. "Emily, sweetie? Please try not to slam the door."

Emily didn't answer he mother as she came into the room with James' duffel bag. "This is it?" The teen asked in dismay. "This isn't all your worldly possessions, is it?"

James had to laugh at that. Was everyone under twenty melodramatic? "No, it didn't make sense to pack all of my worldly belongings. My flight leaves Sunday."

"Oh," the teen seemed a little sad suddenly. "Sunday. So, I guess you are in a hurry to get to your hotel."

"Where are you staying?" Casey asked

"Well…" James was a little embarrassed to admit this, but they had asked. "I hadn't actually gotten as far as getting a hotel room. I just thought –"

"So you can stay here!" Emily quickly cut him off. "He can, can't he, Mom? He can even stay in his old room. All we need to do is air it out."

"And put new sheets on the bed," Casey conceded. "If you need a place to stay, we'd love to have you."

James marveled at the strength of Mrs. Venturi. He wondered what that statement must have cost Casey and how hard it must be to keep that tentative smile on her face.

"Actually, I –"

"Great!" Emily interrupted before James could back out. "Mom and I will get the room ready," the teen insisted and she grabbed he mother's hand and began to pull her out of the room. "And I'll leave your bag in there, too," Emily shouted as the two crossed the threshold and headed toward the stairs.

"Where are they going?" Venturi asked as he re-entered the room with an open bottle of beer and a glass of water.

"Your daughter has decided that I'm staying here and pulled your wife into getting a room ready."

"That sounds like Emily," Venturi smiled. "She's very determined about some things." Venturi handed James the glass of water. "We learned what Emily wants, Emily gets."

"Like father, like daughter," James shrugged.

Derek took a swig of beer before answering. "Not with her methods. I think she's a little more like her mother in this."

James didn't answer, just sipped his water. Tap water in a glass. This was very different from the last time he had water while a guest in someone's house. At the Lawrences, after that crazy endurance walk Mr. Lawrence had dragged them on, Dr. Lawrence had merely shouted, "Heads up" and tossed a bottle of Evian at his head. Luckily he caught it.

Looking over at Venturi, James opened his mouth and…"Your wife lets you drink from the bottle?"

"Wouldn't use the word 'lets', but there was a conversation about it," Venturi allowed.

Drinking habits after traffic discussions? This was a little awkward.

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

"It sounds it," Dr. Lawrence interrupted, "But-"

"But?"

"Are you sure they didn't want you around?"

James just stared at Dr. Lawrence.

"I mean," the academic continued, "Are you sure you didn't misunderstand what was happening? I mean, they hadn't seen you in about nine years, right?"

"About."

"So, how do you know they didn't want you around?"

"The uncomfortable meals were a big hint. It was more hearing things that I shouldn't that clinched it for me."

Lwdloveforlwdlovefor

He wasn't sure how he ended up having dinner with the Venturi family again. He had offered to grab fast food or something elsewhere, but everyone had objected. Emily just wanted him to have dinner with them. Casey kept insisting it wouldn't be a problem. Venturi had mumbled something about them having people drop by in the middle of the week all the time, why would this be different. James was pretty sure that he was being sarcastic.

It just got weirder from there.

After an uncomfortable silence in the beginning, Casey suddenly said, "Why don't we invite everyone over to dinner tomorrow?"

"Everyone?" James asked.

"Yes, everyone. Mom and George wouldn't mind coming by. Marti would love the break to come visit. And Liz and her husband aren't that far away. I think Ed's still in town, isn't he, Derek?"

"Yeah," Derek confirmed after he swallowed.

"And your mother could probably come in. I'm sure everyone will come. They will want to see…James, after all."

"What reason are we going to give them a reason for coming to a huge family dinner? On a Thursday?" Derek asked.

"Oh…well, I'm not sure. I guess we can't call it a homecoming, can we, James?"

"No," James agreed. He directed his eyes to his plate. No need for him to see the relief in Casey's eyes that he wasn't trying to stay.

"Maybe something celebrating fall?" Emily suggested.

"Or that dinner we never had to celebrate the nomination of your latest documentary?" Casey added.

"It's Thanksgiving in the States," James found himself mumbling.

"Excuse me?" Casey asked.

James took a deep breath. "It's Thanksgiving in the States. For some reason, they wait until November to celebrate."

"That's right, they do," Emily added. "The exchange student from the States in my literature class said something about it last month."

"How did you know that?" Venturi asked James.

James shrugged. "I'm just a font of useless information, I guess."

"Well, we didn't get the chance to do a big Thanksgiving dinner last month because of that film festival. So we could-"

"It is a lot of effort," James pushed himself to say. "I wouldn't want to you put yourself out, Mrs. Venturi."

"It wouldn't be a problem, really-"

"Besides, I'd feel a little guilty in causing a big family dinner. You probably just had everyone over last month…or you met up with everyone at someone else's house. It's really not a big deal," James continued. He hoped making it sound like he didn't want to cause work would give them an out not to do this. The last thing he wanted was to be even more uncomfortable in a room full of people he barely knew. Sure, Nana Abby might be there, but he'd rather see her on his own terms.

"Oh, but-"

"Casey, I think he's saying he'd rather not have a big dinner," Venturi said quietly from his end of the table.

"Oh. Well…okay then. But if you change your mind?"

James knew he wasn't going to change his mind. He was just glad that that big dinner thing was stopped in its tracks.

"So, what are we doing after dinner?" Emily asked.

"Well, you're finishing up your homework-" Casey told her daughter.

"But, Mom-"

"No buts. You have practice in the morning-"

"Practice?" James decided to ask instead of watching a family fight. "Ballet or Hockey?"

Casey smiled at James' question. "Emily actually decided, since I was championing dance and Derek was plugging hockey, to create a compromise-"

"So neither one of us would get what we wanted," Derek laughed.

"Ha, ha, Daddy," Emily giggled.

"So, what was the compromise?" James, surprisingly, was interested in what Emily decided to do.

"Figure skating," Emily smiled. "I'm getting better. I've almost got the triple axel down."

"Figure skating? Really," James shook his head. Imani would love his sister. Blinking at the strange thought, he quickly corrected himself in his head. Imani would adore Venturi's daughter Emily. But, if he remembered correctly, so did the rest of the world.

"Yeah, it's a little like dancing…but I'm on skates on the ice, like hockey," Emily explained, although her smile had dimmed a bit.

"Emily, I'm not sure James knows a lot about figure skating-"

"I wish," James muttered after Casey tried to reassure Emily, but given that all the eyes at the table turned on him, he guessed he didn't say it quietly enough. "Oh…it's just that I have a…friend who is really into figure skating. I get an earful."

That was enough for Emily to talk a little about her most recent routine for awhile. But soon it came back to after dinner activity. Before Mrs. Venturi could suggest game night or twenty questions or something else uncomfortable, James quickly said, "You know, I think the flight and driving have finally caught up with me. I'll probably go to sleep after dinner."

"That makes sense. What are you plans for tomorrow?" Casey asked.

"Tomorrow?" James blinked. He hadn't thought that far ahead, but they would probably need to know if he didn't leave tomorrow, when to let him back in the house. It's not like he had a key.

"I could take the day off; you know, so we catch a game or something. Just in case you can't get decent sports were you are," Venturi offered.

The offer surprised James a little, but he knew better to take it. "Oh, no. I'm not going to be the reason a Venturi film was late getting to the public. Hate to hold up progress, and all."

"It's a day. Not a big deal," Venturi replied.

James shrugged. "Anyway, I was thinking of visiting a friend tomorrow," he countered. After he uttered the phrase aloud, he felt convicted – why was it just now that paying respects to Harry occurred to him?

"You can always bring the friend with you," Casey ventured.

"Um…that wouldn't quite work," James' felt his lips turn up a bit at the picture that popped into his head of him bringing Harry along.

"Or your father could come with you to meet up with this friend," Casey suggested.

"Doubt he'd want to spend all day in a graveyard," James shared.

"A…graveyard?" Casey asked, sounding confused.

Interestingly enough, it was Emily who understood first. "Oh, Mikey, I'm so sorry. Were you close?"

Ignoring the elder Venturis, who were probably processing that James was going to visit a dead friend, he instead say. "Yeah, we were. He was my brother in a lot of ways. It's been odd, celebrating birthdays without getting pulled into some crazy thing to commemorate the day." James blinked a few times, sure that it was tiredness and not tears that were blurring his vision. "And today's travel is finally catching up with me. May I be excused?"

"Sure," Casey quietly granted permission.

In his room that night, James found that he stared at the ceiling for most of the night. It was surreal, being in that house. It wasn't just strange being in that house; it was strange being there and not being able to call Harry. Harry would have laughed his ass off about some of the stupid things James had done at this point. But then, Harry might have known what the hell to make of Venturi. James found he didn't sleep well that night.

- to be concluded –


	10. It's Probably Because

**It Was All About Love For**

By: December

**Chapter 9: It's probably because**

_Last time: It was surreal, being in that house….James found he didn't sleep well that night._

He woke up the next morning, very disoriented. At first, he felt confused, as he didn't recognize where he was. Then, for a moment, he wondered if he was still seventeen and the last ten years had been a drug-induced whacked-out dream. It was seeing his duffel bag sitting next to his desk and his cellberry lying on that desk that brought it all rushing back. Somehow, he had managed to land himself in Venturi's house. He had a feeling this was a really bad idea.

Sitting up in bed, he tried to figure out what to do next. Obviously, he was going to see Harry today. He did say he would and there was no way he was staying in the great Venturi's house all day. Being out of the house for a while might actually help him get his thinking together. He'd been having a hard time thinking straight since he'd gotten out of his rental yesterday evening.

First things first, he needed to get ready to face the day. Getting up and reaching for his bag, he figured this was a khakis and nice shirt moment. Recalling the times he'd gone with Harry to visit Harry's grandfather's grave, Harry had always insisted they dress up. James figured that Harry deserved the same respect.

It was eerie, in a way, how easily James fit into the routine in that house. As he came down the stairs dressed, he followed his nose to the kitchen. There was the entire Venturi clan, up and dressed. Mrs. Venturi was even cooking bacon…and chocolate chip pancakes.

"Good morning, James," Casey Venturi said as she'd noticed him first. "I was just thinking that I might need to send Emily up to get you. Would you like some pancakes?"

"Yes, thank you," James blinked as he sat at the island in the kitchen, in the space where he normally sat all of those years ago. Emily was on his right, the great Venturi reading the Entertainment section in his left. James was really feeling sixteen again. Well, the past eleven years hadn't changed his love of chocolate chip pancakes. "Wait, I thought Emily said something about having practice this morning?" James asked, remembering some of the conversation from last night.

"Since you were visiting, I decided to practice after school instead. You know, so I could be around for breakfast and all," Emily smiled at him as she reached over and took a slice of bacon from the plate Casey Venturi placed in front of James…just like she used to when she was six.

James just raised his eyebrow, but decided not to comment. He bet Emily got away with a lot of stuff. Besides, he found he didn't mind. He'd bet Imani would say it was cute.

"When are you heading out this morning?" Casey asked again. Venturi merely grunted, but didn't make any effort to add to the conversation.

"Um…soon, I guess. I hadn't really thought about it. I might need extra time to keep from getting lost."

"Lost?" Emily asked

James shrugged, "I've only ever been to the cemetery the once, for the burial. And that was years ago. I'm not so sure I'll find it on the first try."

Emily's sad eyes were making James a little uncomfortable, so he turned to Mrs. Venturi, expecting to see annoyance, which he could handle. Unfortunately, she was wearing an expression similar to her daughter's. "James…your father has lived in London all of his life. He could ride with you, navigate you to where you want to go. I'm sure he wouldn't mind," she finished quietly.

"And still be stuck at a graveyard for hours? Yeah, right," James just shrugged. "I'll find it. I'll figure it out. I'm used to doing that."

"There are worse ways to spend a day than at a cemetery," Derek Venturi suddenly added before taking a rather savage bite of bacon.

"Sure, but no one wants a root canal or a five hour French exam," James shuttered in response. French was still one of those things he'd probably be cursed to deal with in hell, but he was determined to conquer the language at university since he didn't actually beat it in high school. Almost like he was trying to prove something – not that he cared enough about anything that happened a decade ago to try to prove anything.

"A French exam?" Venturi turned to look at James.

"I like French," Emily shared quietly.

"You would," James found himself laughing at the way things turned out, which lessened any bite that response had. "I bet you had a much better teacher than I had."

"Madame Davis is great," Emily smiled. "We even have the same name."

James coughed a little on his pancakes when Emily named her teacher. "Madame Davis? Really?" Before Emily could answer him, and James knew she would, he turned back to Mrs. Venturi. "I don't want to be a bother about getting back in. Is there a time I need to return?"

"Oh, well…" Casey Venturi seemed to pause and think. "I'll be in and out most of the day. And most of my errands are close. As long as you are back before two or after four this afternoon, the door should be unlocked-"

"You don't lock your doors? Seriously?" James stared at the older Venturis.

"Not really an issue," Derek shrugged.

"But anyone could walk in! Thieves. Murderers. The press!"

"Now, I don't think a member of the press is the same thing as a murderer," Mrs. Venturi pointed out.

"And our neighbors pay attention. We've hadn't had a problem," Venturi shrugged.

"And they won't call the cops on me? You know, since I must be hiding from the law or something," James returned. He didn't mean to refer from that statement from the day before, but it still annoyed him.

"James-" Mrs. Venturi began.

"I'll be back by four," James said as he swallowed. Standing up to leave, mainly because he wanted out of the conversation, his manners prodded him to say, "Thanks for breakfast," even though he'd left most of it there. Which was a shame because those pancakes were just as good as he remembered them.

James left the house soon after that. He wasn't sure if Emily had left for school by that point or where the other Venturis were. He told himself he didn't care. It's not like they really cared about him.

He'd only gotten lost once in trying to find the cemetery. After he was there, he found Harry's grave rather easily. He must have stood there and stared for an hour. He didn't really know what to say. He felt it should say something. He wanted to say something…but what could he say, when Harry couldn't answer back?

Finally, James opened his mouth and said, "Hey, bro. Know I've been MIA. Sorry about that, but rehab's a bitch."

That seemed to be all the opening James needed to poor everything out to Harry. The good, the bad, and the ugly of the last two years came out in a rush. The hell that was rehab. Reconnecting with his mother. The opportunity to finish high school and go to university in the States. He talked about Imani and Dr. Lawrence and how much he envied that family. He talked about his university classes and how he felt old some days. And he shared how much he missed Harry. As the flow of words finally stopped, James shook his head. Somewhere, Harry was laughing his ass off at James' monologue in front of the grave. He'd probably say something like, "The verbal diarrhea is nice and all, but it don't take all that, bro! We crew. I fuckin' get it."

Taking a deep breath, James looked at the resting place of his best friend again. "Sorry about always unloading on you, but where else could I, you know? Harry – you'd get a fuckin' kick out of this if you were here – you won't believe who I'm staying with while I'm in London. The Great Venturi himself. I didn't plan it – the opposite of that, actually. I just figured he'd be gone, so I'd just tour the house and have a 'fuck this shit' moment before I appeared at Mom's in Sarnia or went to Windsor, just to be in Windsor. But Venturi was there, the little terror pulled me in and now I'm staying there."

James shook his head as he paused. It was like he could hear Harry laugh, "Oh, don't even pull that shit, bro. I know you like her."

"Yeah, well. It's not the most comfortable of vacations. And I get the feeling that this is a really bad idea, but we all do stupid shit, right? Poor Mrs. Venturi is probably beyond horrified that I somehow found my way back. Although, oddly enough, she did make chocolate chip pancakes this morning."

James left soon after that. Being that he was a little cold, he stopped in one of those café places for coffee. He figured he picked out one of the teen hangouts, given the crowds. Looking over at the laughing table filled with guys and girls, James thought back to high school. He and Harry were crew, and given everything else James wouldn't trade that, but James had never had a chance to meet up with friends at some place that served bar food without serving the bar alcohol. It made him feel disappointed in some way. Just something else Venturi managed to take from him.

James finally arrived back at the Venturi house about 4:30. He had thought about not returning several times that day. But he needed some of the stuff in his bag and he couldn't afford to replace everything that he'd brought with him, so he came back. He let himself in, and was relieved that no alarms went off. It also appeared that none of the neighbors were calling the police.

Wanting to avoid anyone who might be home by that point, James walked up to the room that he was using during his stay; it was hard to think of it as "his room" anymore, although nothing had really changed about it since he'd lived there. He stopped suddenly when he noticed that there was someone standing in the middle of the room. Her back was facing the door, so she didn't know he was there. What was the little terror up to now?

Leaning against the doorframe, James tried to sound casual as he said, "If you are looking for something in particular, you can just ask. I might be willing to help you find it."

The teenager jumped before she turned to stare at James accusingly, "Mikey! You scared me."

James shrugged as he came into the room. "Any particular reason you are casing my room?"

"I…I'm not!" Emily Venturi insisted. "I just wanted to be sure you had everything."

"And you couldn't have just asked me?" James raised an eyebrow as he sat on the bed he'd actually made up that morning. If you lived with Casey Venturi for any stretch of time, you made beds you slept in. He even did it in hotels, much to Harry's amusement all those years ago.

"But, if you needed towels or something, they could have already have been waiting for you," Emily replied.

"Uh-huh," James returned.

"What?"

"I just don't think Venturi's training you for maid service."

Emily laughed at that. "No, of course this wasn't Daddy's idea. Daddy wouldn't make up his side of the bed if Mom didn't insist. Besides…Mom has said that Daddy isn't allowed to determine my career path."

"Smart move on Mrs. Venturi's part, seeing how well Venturi did with me," James shrugged.

Silence met this response. Then, Emily abruptly sat in the chair by his old desk. She looked right at James and said, "That's not fair, Mikey."

"Truth rarely is."

"It's not truth either! Mikey-"

James held up a hand and Emily stopped. "You don't have to defend your father to me, Emily. I shouldn't have said anything."

Emily looked like she still wanted to say something, but she seemed to decide against it. "Dinner's in an hour," she shared she stood up and walked toward the door.

"Thanks."

"And Mikey…he's your father, too," Emily said quietly as she left.

James shook his head as Venturi's daughter left. It's odd that she would emphasize their shared father. One would think that she wouldn't want to maximize the connection. If that ET clip from all those years ago showed him nothing else, it showed the PR side of the Venturi image had clearly decided Venturi wasn't his father. Why should Emily want to disagree with that? The fastest way to stop being seen as the world's sweetheart is to have a druggie older brother in your past.

James wasn't sure why part of him wanted Emily to keep the adoration of the world and its press. Maybe he just wanted to see something that wasn't destroyed by the train wreck he'd seen in his life.

An hour later, with a slight headache from thinking so hard, James went downstairs for dinner with the Venturis. He couldn't help the "Whoa" that escaped him when he saw the spread of food that Venturi and his wife were putting on the table. "Do you eat like this every night?" he asked as he waited by his chair until Emily and Casey sat down.

"No," Emily laughed.

Casey Venturi shrugged, "I just thought some different things might be nice, is all."

"Some different things" must be code for "enough to feed an army", because there was more food than four people needed on that table. The spread included a Greek salad, a zucchini casserole, mashed potatoes and gravy, macaroni and cheese, a fruit salsa, fresh baked rolls – and those were just the side dishes. At the center of the meal was a stuffed pork loin in a rosemary and raspberry glaze.

It made James' stomach turn.

In his other life, James had loved that pork dish. Probably second only to her chocolate chip pancakes, James had adored that dish and usually asked for it during special occasions after Casey had first fixed it – the night after the custody hearing. But now…James rarely ate pork now. Not for any kind of health reason at all, he just associated pork too much with his life with the Venturis. At another point in his life, smelling pork was enough to want a hit. He was stronger than that now, he hoped, but he definitely didn't want pork that night.

At the beginning of the meal, people were relatively quiet as they loaded their plates. James didn't think anyone was paying too much attention to his choices until Venturi said in an off-handed way. "With all of that rabbit food on your plate, you won't have room for any pork."

"Huh?" James replied, a little startled. It seemed something about being in the Venturi household was interfering with his ability to understand basic English. Or "Canadian English" as Imani would call it.

"You know," Mrs. Venturi turned to look at her husband, "it's possible that James might want to finish his salad first before partaking in the main course."

Venturi snorted as he looked over at his wife, "And who does that?"

Mrs. Venturi pointed to her own salad on a salad plate that sat on top of her unused dinner plate.

"Okay," Venturi conceded, "who, besides you, does that?"

James thought he should say something before everyone focused too much on what he was eating. That and the politeness that Nana Abby tried to teach him had never really left him. "It's a wonderful salad, Mrs. Venturi. And I'm sure it will be enough for me."

Instead of encouraging the rest of the table to focus on him less, that statement seemed to make him focus on him more.

"You aren't going to have any of the pork?" from Venturi.

"It's Mom's best dish. You have to have some of it," from Emily.

"Are you a vegetarian now, James?" Mrs. Venturi asked quietly. "I didn't think to ask about dietary needs."

"This isn't some snooty conference," Venturi objected. "You shouldn't have to ask him about food preferences!"

James silently agreed with his father, if only because family should know what their children prefer to eat without asking. His mother and Nana Abby hadn't tried to give him pork in recent memory, after all. Regardless, he felt he had to respond to all of the comments. "No, I'm not a vegetarian. I just don't eat pork."

"Did you stop eating pork for religious reasons?" Emily asked. "I've always admired people who have done that."

That question caused James to laugh, as it was too close to a conversation he'd had with Imani and his roommate right before fall break. "No, I haven't 'found religion'. At least I haven't found one that bans pork consumption. It's just that pork holds some…bad memories for me."

"Oh," Casey Venturi said quietly as she looked at the pork roast on the table. It looked like Venturi was going to fire something back at James, but decided against it at the last minute.

Dinner was almost silent after that. James got the feeling that the lack of conversation was his fault. The problem was that he didn't know how to fix it. He got the idea that complimenting the casserole or fruit salsa would be a bad thing. James excused himself as soon as he could. There wasn't any reason why he should stay and inflict indigestion on everyone else. And he had to get away from the pork smell. Bacon didn't affect him the way pork roast did. He was having an association reaction, he was sure. His version was blurry for some reason. It absolutely wasn't because he was about to cry. One of the few functional things he learned as a child was that men didn't cry. Ever.

Besides, if he were prone to crying, it would have been what he overheard later that night that would have reduced him to tears.

If asked about it later, James wouldn't have been able to say why he was even in the hallway in the first place. Dinner was amazingly uncomfortable and he'd been avoiding the rest of the house ever since. He was trying to decide if he should leave before breakfast in the morning as it was. It was really only the need to go to the restroom that had him leaving the room where he was sleeping. It was the snatches of conversation that he heard from the master suite that had him pause.

"…like it was my fault," he heard Mrs. Venturi say.

"No. It wasn't your fault, Case. Not at all. It's Michael's." Venturi returned.

Clearly, they were both moving around the room, so even crouched by the door, James couldn't hear everything that was said. For a few moments, all he heard was murmuring until he heard Mrs. Venturi said, "Maybe it was a mistake?"

"Mistake?!" Venturi snorted, although he didn't sound amused. "This whole thing with Michael has been a train-wreck from the beginning!"

Venturi said some other things, but James had straightened and moved away from the door. In fact, he found himself back in the room where he was sleeping before he knew it. All he heard running through his head was Venturi, the man who fathered him, saying "This whole thing with Michael has been a train-wreck from the beginning!" This "whole thing"? He knew he wasn't Venturi's favorite child, by a long shot, because he wasn't Casey's, but the "whole thing" was a mistake? From the beginning? Did his father really think he was a mistake?

That question had come up in rehab once. James remembered he had stormed out of the group session to avoid answering it. But there it was again. Was he a mistake?

One thing that was certain, it was time to leave London. Spending time with his mother in Sarnia was looking better and better. At least in Sarnia, more bad news wouldn't push him to self-medicating. His mother had been clean for two years longer than he. Her house would be a safe place to have a moment where he didn't feel so strong.

Early that next morning, he packed and left the Venturi household. He didn't stop to talk, but he did leave a thank you note of sorts. He also left all of the cash that he had with him. Sure it was US currency, but, given what the Venturi's had spent because he showed up on their doorstep? Well, he felt like he owed them something. They could exchange it at a bank or something.

Lwdloveforlwdloveforlwdlovefor

Dr. Lawrence blinked. "You left them another note? You don't think that might have been a little harsh?"

James shrugged. "Not really," he replied, but he didn't mean it. When he had left the first note for his biological father all of those years ago he was angry. He was angry and he was going to stay with someone who had always been a support for him. When he left the second note, he felt queasy about it. He had chalked it up to being wounded at being called a mistake, mainly because he didn't want to explore any other reasons for the feeling.

Dr. Lawrence was silent for a few moments. "I…I understand that what you overheard was a little, well, hard to hear-"

James raised an eyebrow as he looked at the academic.

"Okay, more than hard," the older woman allowed. "But you were crouched outside of their bedroom door-"

"Which means I caught them telling the truth!"

"Which means," Dr. Lawrence corrected, "that what you heard, you heard out of context. Are you sure you didn't misunderstand?"

"How do you misunderstand 'this whole thing with Michael has been a train wreck from the beginning'?!"

"Rather easily, I should think," Dr. Lawrence countered.

"Well, I didn't misunderstand. My mother even confirmed it for me. I was a mistake that my parents had no idea how to deal with."

That stopped Dr. Lawrence for a moment. She opened her mouth a few times to close it. Then she asked, "You mother called you a train-wreck? She actually called you a mistake to your face?" Her voice was very quiet.

James found the need to be honest here. "She didn't call me a mistake, but her reaction confirmed it for me."

Lwdloveforlwdloveforlwdlovefor

He landed on his mother's doorstep by about ten that morning. As he rang the bell, he wondered if she would be home…and what he would do if she wasn't. His fears were put to rest when the door opened. "James! What a surprise. It's great to see you," Sally Kent Venturi exclaimed as she pulled him into a tight hug. "Come in. Come in."

James smiled at his mother as he followed her into the house. "It's good to see you, Mom. It's been awhile."

"It has. I haven't seen you since you started that university in the States. Speaking of, why are you even here? Shouldn't you be in classes or something?"

James laughed. "You realize you always ask me if I should be in classes or something, don't you?"

"Well," his mother shrugged, "I don't want you to become one of those students who always skip class. They get into trouble."

"More trouble than I've already gotten into?" James snarked back to his mother. She just shook her head at him.

"So, why the visit? Why aren't you in class?"

"Holiday in the States. I flew into Toronto and thought I'd hop on the road and visit you."

"Oh, so long flight plus hours on the road. That must be why you look like hell," Sally laughed. "Well, come in and sit down and fill me in on life since your October phone call."

"Okay," James smiled and he walked into his mother's living room a few paces in front of her. "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?" he thought to ask.

"No. You actually timed your visit well. I just got back from Flow Yoga." His mother sat next to him as she smiled. "So, what's up?"

For most of their conversation, they just talked about inane things. As usual, Sally pushed that James find another counselor or therapist "because they are good for people like us". They compared notes about their AA and NA meetings, which prompted James to say "US Americans are weird" and his mother to laugh. James mentioned that he visited Harry's grave and Sally made the right supportive noises. Then James said, "I also spent some time with Venturi, his wife, and his daughter."

"Oh," Sally Venturi said quietly as she rose from the couch. She walked to the other side of the room to look out the window. After a few minutes of silence, she asked, "How was it? Did you and your father talk at all?"

"Mom, I know we have an agreement not to talk about the past-"

Sally smiled sadly as she turned to look at James. "Only because neither one of us seems to handle it well."

"I know," James agreed as he looked down at his hands. "But there is one thing I need to know. One question I have to ask."

"I'd rather you didn't," Sally shared quietly. "I don't think I could even tell a good white lie about any of it. I probably can't be fair or balance about it, either."

"That's fine. Because I want the truth." James got up and paced away from his mother before turning to look at her.

"James?" she asked.

"Mom, when you look back at your time with Venturi, when you think about it, do you think it was a mistake? I mean," he rushed out before his mother could get a word in, "do you ever wish you could have made a different decision, if you could do it over? Would you do something else if you had the chance?"

After his last question, he saw the sadness in his mother's eyes as they began to water. "Mom. I just – I just need to know if I was some kind of mistake."

His mother just looked at him. She opened and closed her mouth several times but nothing came out. Well, nothing came out of her mouth. Water did come out of her eyes and streamed out her face. A few moments later, her right hand ended up on her face, covering the mouth that couldn't seem to force out words.

It was too hard to watch, James decided. That's why he crossed the room and pulled his crying mother into a hug. What felt like hours later, Sally finally stopped crying and looked up at him, "James-"

James shrugged, "You were right. I shouldn't have asked."

"But, James-"

"It's okay, Mom," James smiled as he hugged his mother, even though his smile felt off center. "We don't handle the past well. Never have."

"We should talk about this, though," Sally started.

"Nope," James countered as he smiled harder. "I'm only in the country until Sunday morning. We shouldn't talk about this. We should make a triple layer chocolate cake instead."

Sally looked like she wanted to argue, but she ended up agreeing. It was probably because James suggested the cake. It was one of the first things Sally learned to make after coming out of rehab. Asking for that cake always seemed to stop tears and end difficult conversations.

The topic didn't come back up while James finished out his vacation with his mother. The conversation and the conclusion he had reached because of it, however, never really left his brain. He remembered feeling like he had to prove something when he returned to classes, but what and to whom, he didn't know. And, when he wasn't on the mission was secret even to him, he spent time with Imani or with the people in his building. He didn't go out though. Even he knew that bars in his mental state where not a good place to be.

Lwdloveforlwdloveforlwdlovefor

James looked up to see Dr. Lawrence crying in much the way his mother had. That unnerved him. He'd never seen her cry before. As she got up out of her chair, he thought she was going to kick him out. Instead, she pulled him to his feet – which was a feat in and of itself, since he was at least three inches taller than she was – and dragged him into a hug.

"James," she said as she hugged him. "You are not a mistake. You are not. You are meant to do something amazing. Do you hear me?" she insisted as she looked at him.

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am," James found himself replying, both to lighten the mood…and because Dr. Lawrence had sounded a little like a drill sergeant for a moment.

"Do you believe me?" she asked in a quieter voice as she stepped away.

James felt an off-center smile appear on his face. "I'm working on it."

"Good," his advisor smiled as she returned to her seat. "Because I believe it. And I'll believe it for you until you do. Maybe along the way you'll patch things up with your family. Maybe you won't. But you are someone we are all very lucky to have." Dr. Lawrence's smile, James was sure, had to do with the fact he was probably blushing a bit. "So, tell me about these plans of yours to have a great spring semester."

"Oh. Okay," James replied as he sat back down and began to lay out what he had figured out during the semester break.

As they were wrapping up the meeting twenty minutes later, Dr. Lawrence said in an off-handed way. "We are going to DC for a week for Spring Break. It's not a beach, but spending time with drunken vacationers has never been my thing. We haven't decided if we are driving or taking the train, but clear your whole week, just in case."

James blinked at the unspoken assumption that he was invited. "It's nice of you to think of me," he said quietly.

Dr. Lawrence smiled. "Don't thank me yet. My Keith will be watching you like a hawk the entire time we are on vacation."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Dr. Lawrence shared. "His only child is a daughter. Fathers of daughters are the scariest men on the planet."

"Duly noted," James nodded as he rose to leave. As he reached the door, he turned back to look at the academic who was finally opening the box of Kleenex that had sat on the right side of the desk for most of their meeting. "Oh, and Dr. Lawrence?"

"Yes, James?"

"Thank you."

Not surprisingly, she didn't need to ask for what. "You're welcome, James. You're welcome."

- the end -

_**And so ends (finally) story one of the trilogy. The next story in this series is called Unblended: A Beautiful Mess. I hope that the first chapter will be able to be premiered in June. Also, for those who stuck with this story, within the next few days, I'll conclude this story with a commentary on the writing of this piece and a soundtrack for this story. Feedback is always welcomed.**_

_**Thank you for reading.**_


	11. Extra: Story Commentary

IWAALF commentary

This commentary was requested as part of a meme on LiveJournal. Unlike my one-shots, I couldn't go line by line in this story, given that it is ten chapters and over 32,000 words. Therefore, I decided to create this document to give some insights into what was going on in my head as I wrote this story. This commentary is a thank you for all of you who read and followed this out of control song fic. I appreciate all of your reviews and thoughts and I hope you enjoyed the journey.

The origin

Earlier I called this story a songfic. And it is. The idea of this story snuck up on me a bit. Thebucketwoman had asked me to write a songfic (featuring Derek) using the Jason Mraz song "If It Kills Me" as inspiration. "If It Kills Me" is on Jason's newest album We Sing, We Dance, We Steal Things, which I had bought the same time I bought Jesse McCartney's newest album. I had been listening to the album and enjoying it. I decided to re-listen to the album to get some ideas for the fic I owed thebucketwoman. As I listened to the album, I stumbled across and fell in love with the song "Love For a Child".

"Love For a Child" seemed to tell the story of a child coping with divorce and not opening well. It's a song that pulls on your heartstrings. The song had me asking the question, what is the Life with Derek future (Dasey or otherwise) is not as perfect as we like to think it is? What if before Derek and Sally were over, they had a child? And how would that play into everything else? So, I was introduced to James Michael Venturi and the story the young man had to tell.

Oh, and in case you are wondering, I still owe thebucketwoman that "If It Kills Me" fic.

The prologue

I'm not sure what made me decide that James would be telling this story to his academic advisor in university. I've spent a lot of my life in higher education, so it is a known area for me. And I'm making a big assumption that college life doesn't change much in like fifty years, but I wanted to give James a safe place to tell the story with someone who would ask questions. I didn't want to do the research for that person to by a psychologist, so I made that person an academic instead. Academics have a curiosity that would prompt the questioning that was necessary at points in the story.

Dr. Lawrence is inspired by a lot of people. She's part me. She's part my mother. She's part some of the advisors and mentors I've had over the years. She's some of the people with whom I've worked. She's people with whom I've attended church. I never specified her academic discipline in this story, although I have ideas of what it will be. (It will show up later in the trilogy.)

Chapter 1

Okay, obviously I was writing this during season three, before we knew that there was going to be a Dally break-up. And way before Demily was a mistake the series made. That is why I decided that Sally would end up as James's mother. Given her issues with Patrick, I had a further window to get Derek and Sally together and further reason why Derek/Sally didn't work for the long hall.

Yes, I made Sally depressed and hooked on various substances. At the same time, I hope I didn't make her the "evil" in this situation. Nothing in real life is ever that easy, so I wanted to show the good and the problems in Sally (and later Derek).

The "she" in italics…Casey was going to be a part of the story, but I didn't want to name-drop her too early in James' story. James has some unresolved issues with the second Mrs. Venturi, so I don't think we would have named her as fast either. I went with the italics to try to minimize the confusion, as I wasn't clearly identifying the she in the beginning.

Oh, and Emm Gryner and In Flight Safety are real Canadian artists. Go check their stuff out! I made up Ono-Otto.

Chapter 2

When Mike meets Casey. Okay, a lot of other stuff happens in that chapter. I tried to capture the anger (fear, and concern) Derek would have felt coming up on that scene through the eyes of an eight year old who misunderstands his father's reactions. Oh, and to my knowledge, we don't know much about Sally's family, except that she has brothers that I never mention, so I just made up names for her parents.

Interestingly enough, I'm not sure when (if) James is ever told about Derek and Casey's connection before they married. Other people know about it and talk about it, but I'm not sure if/when James put it together.

And yes, Casey is on the phone with Emily in this chapter. They still managed to stay good friends.

I also decided that Abby wasn't always treated well by the fandom. I never thought Abby was a bad person or bad parent. I think she made the best decision for her and her children, who she clearly loves and is involved with. So, this was my chance to show the good side of Abby. Nana Abby quickly became one of my favorite people in this story. James was her first grandchild, after all. And, in some ways, I think she can relate to Sally. They are both members of the Venturi First Wives Club, after all.

Chapter 3

The custody hearing. I like to torture characters I like, and I like Derek and James. Nana Abby is around to help out. And George and Nora are still married. This is pre-season four, so in this world, Nora never got pregnant. George and Nora treated James like a grandchild as well…I just think James liked his Nana Abby better.

The other point I wanted to make was that Sally did/does love James and had moments when she was a good mother. She just had a lot of things going on in her life at the time that didn't make her the best parent.

Chapter 4

The birth of the "little terror". This was the point where I could explore what would happen to kids from a previous marriage when Derek and Casey had their own kids. I think James might have taken this news better if his mother hadn't (accidentally) planted the fear in his head that as soon as Casey had a kid, he wouldn't be needed anymore.

The people gathered in the living room to hear Casey and Derek's news should be obvious, but I'll list them anyway: George, Nora, Abby, Lizzie and her husband (who isn't Edwin, so no lizwin in this story), Edwin, and Marti. Dennis isn't there. My guess is that Casey called him earlier to tell him the news. Marti is the person who suggested Daphne as a name, after her imaginary friend from all those years ago. For whatever reason, James had never met Lizzie and didn't know Edwin or Marti well.

I love the idea that Emily adores James although he's conflicted about how he feels about her. Emily loved her big brother from the beginning, even before she completely figured out who the third person was in the house along with really big people who took care of her.

I based Emily's injury off of something I did to myself when I was about Emily's age. I ran into the wooden edge of our couch and landed on the floor. I then got up and went to find my mother. I felt fine…but I was actually bleeding from the head from where I hit the couch. My mother took one look at me (she was on the phone) and said into the phone, "And I gotta go, bye," and took me to the emergency room. The only time I wasn't fine was when they put in the stitches. I don't have a scar, but besides that, Emily and I share an injury.

Chapter 5 – 6

These were the chapters where I could explore the Harry and James (Mike) friendship. I like Harry a lot. He'd be a great guy without the whole drug thing. I don't know much more about Harry and his background than James does. And Harry wants the best for his friend. I think he did want James to graduate from high school.

For the French in chapter 6, I had to use a translator program. I have a translation below, for the curious:

Madam Davis: Venturi. Good morning. How nice of you to join us today. Do you have your homework?

Mike: No

Madam Davis: Have you read the Little Prince story?

Mike: I know nothing.

Madam Davis: Absolutely. That's evident. See me after class.

And yes, Madam Davis is Emily Davis. This doesn't mean that she didn't marry. It just means that she established her career under her maiden name and decided not to change that name later. Why confuse people?

Dr. Lawrence's sympathy for Derek and Casey was included so that James might begin to see some of the other side of the story.

Chapter 7

It was mean of me to kill off Harry. Yeah, I know. But I needed a reason for James to get clean and change his name.

And I couldn't help the references to ET and Paula Dean. I made up L however.

I figured that Abby isn't but so much older than I am, so she'd would have listened to 70s and 80s music growing up, hence James' grandmother playing Poker and listening to the GoGos. And yes, I decided that Jesse still has a career so far in the future…so, of course, I threw him into the story.

And Dr. Lawrence was crying a little at the end of this part of the story, even though she denies it.

Oh, and the ET coverage about the Venturi family, their activities, and Derek's film project(s) are important. It comes up later…and it makes an interesting point about how Derek feels about James.

Chapters 8 – 9

I was initially trying to do this in one chapter, but it became two, due to size. It could have almost have been three. These chapters together are over 9,000 words. Although "Writing Love" was a one-shot that was 11,000+ words, in general, anything over 3,000 words for me is its own chapter.

James' homecoming was an interesting mental journey to take. I had to think about how every one in the family would react. Emily was overjoyed and scared that James would disappear again. Casey was cautious, for a variety of reasons. She was also happy he was home…and yes, she was pushing with the questions because she was trying to figure out where James was living at the point. And poor Derek. Par of him was very happy his son was home, but given everything, that wasn't expressed in a functional way.

Windsor, Sarnia, London, and Toronto are all real places. I spent a lot of time on Google maps, looking at routes to these places and if it would make sense for James to stop in London on his way to Windsor or Sarnia. I've also been to Windsor. (It's beautiful…and there is a big casino there. It also right across the bridge from Detroit, MI.) Emm Gryner is from Sarnia, so I had to drop that into the story. All four of these places are in the Ontario province.

Oh, and ages. That really threw a lot of people off, so I'll explain. At the point of this chapter:

Emily Venturi = 17

James Venturi = 27

(remember they are ten years apart)

Yes, James has just started university, but keep this in mind:

At 18, James drops out of high school and moves in with Harry

At 24, Harry dies. James goes into rehab

At 26, James gets the equivalent of a GED and enrolls into a college in the United States. Since college = technical school in Canada and James is not in technical school, he refers to it as "university", even though university might not be in the name of the institution he is attending. (I haven't decided where he is attending, yet.)

I haven't given James a birthday, although Emily has one. James's birthday would be close to when Emily's is. I'll make more clear when James' birthday is in the next story.

(Another note. Obviously, in this world, Ford is still in existence, as James is driving a Ford Taurus around Canada.)

Yes, Derek is blocking something in the living room on purpose. He doesn't think James would steal it (or anything else); he just doesn't know how to talk to James about what he's blocking. And yes, Derek is wounded that James has talked with his mother and not him. Keep in mind, up until this point, Derek hadn't heard from his son since he was 18.

And the chocolate chip pancakes, the pork roast dinner, and the triple layer chocolate cake all have meaning. The cake is explained in the chapter, but the other two aren't. I will say that you should pay attention to when Casey makes chocolate chip pancakes. There is a method to her madness, in a sense. I also wrote parts of chapter nine while hungry, hence all the food on the Venturi table for Thursday night dinner.

The soundtrack

As I mentioned earlier, this is a song fic. A while ago, I also created a soundtrack for this story and the second story in the trilogy. (I'm currently working on the soundtrack for the third story in the trilogy.) Below is the track listing for the IWAALF soundtrack.

**IWAALF soundtrack**  
1. Love for a child - Jason Mraz – _For obvious reasons. This is the song that inspired the whole story. The chapter tiles are also song lyrics.  
_

2. Acid (Pubic version) - Emm Gryner – _I love this song, but I included it for two reasons. First, Emm is Canadian. Second, it has a great line, "It would take away the acid if I thought you'd understand, but I don't think you'd understand." I think it captures James' mood in a lot of ways.  
_

3. Don't Bother – Shakira – _I go back and forth to whether this better captures James' or Sally's feelings about the new Venturi family_.

4. Flesh and Blood - Wilson Phillips – _Much of this story is about James trying to figure out his family.  
_

5. Your Sort of Human Being (Original Leap Year Version) - Emm Gryner - _Besides the angry guitars skewing male for me, this song is great for the line, "Wasn't I your sort of human being? Wasn't I your kind of creature? Tell me how unworthy I seemed when you got thinking about it."  
_

6. This Mad (Public version) - Emm Gryner – _Another great Emm song, with the best ending line in a song, ever. "See how we've changed to each other."_

7. Thank You – Dido

8. Catalyst - Anna Nalick

9. Daddy was a pilot - Hot One – _I think this gets at James' view of his father at points in the fic._

10. Friends in Low Places - Garth Brooks _– An ode to the Harry and James friendship  
_

11. Nice to Know - Andrew Spice – _Another song that I think gets at some of James' feelings.  
_

12. Daisy, You're a Liar - Daniel Ledwell

13. Toy Soldiers - Martika

14. Grandma's Hands – _I think the artist is Bill Withers. Regardless, this is the tribute to Nana Abby.  
_

15. Wind Beneath My Wings - Bette Midler

16. Hurt - Christina Aguilera


End file.
